Authors: Dave Jeffery
“
Looks like your luck’s up, Sir,” Honeyman sneered, pulling out his side arm and pointing it at Shipman’s head.
“
Time to die,” the big marine smirked.
The shot was loud on the blasted landscape.
***
Blood oozed from Honeyman’s mouth, a thick and constant stream that splashed over his fatigues and onto the wet, glistening pavement.
The big marine buckled at the knees, dead weight shattering his ankles and pitching him sideways where his feet twitched for several seconds.
From the doorway Shipman looked across the street as a lone figure approached. It was a soldier in regulation field dress, a SA80 smoking in his hands.
“
That was a good shot, soldier,” Shipman said, grimacing with pain.
“
You, okay, Sir?” O’Connell asked.
“
I’ll live a while longer, but I need your help.”
“
Sure, I can carry you to my vehicle,” O’Connell said.
“
No, I mean I need help to complete my mission,” Shipman replied quickly.
“
That won’t be possible, Sir,” O’Connell said. “I’m on a timeline.”
“
We’re
all
on a timeline tonight, private,” Shipman said irritated by the newcomer’s manner. “And unless you follow my orders, none of us are making it out of here alive. COM has given the EVAC order; this city is going to be neutralized in one hour unless I complete my mission. You getting me, soldier?”
“
Well seeing how we’re all being brutally honest tonight, I guess I’ve got a jaw dropper of my own for you,” O’Connell said softly.
***
With realization comes recall, the door that has been closed and secured with mental deadlocks now forced open, exposing memories; terrifying, tortuous memories of blood and pain and madness.
And these recollections surge in from the past, flooding the present; submerging the inert and trembling figure of Thom Everett in the churning waters of despair. He was dead now he has risen; human and full of life yet part of him had died and had been left behind, a beacon of light glowing in purgatory for the lost to follow; a breadcrumb trail of the most macabre kind.
And on the roof of Hilton Towers Thom Everett saw the evidence of this hypothesis as the three zombies climbed to their feet and stepped away from him.
“
What do you want from me?” he screamed at them; his revulsion and anger fuelling his outburst as his gory, gormless entourage stared impassively back at him.
“
What do you want from me?” This time it was whispered and accompanied by tears, as though he needed to wash away the repugnance in his mind and in the same instance purge his soul.
That was if he still had a soul to purge, of course.
***
“
You told him?” Clarke hissed incredulously. “Are you crazy?”
“
I’d say you’re the one who’s lost the plot talking to O’Connell like that,” Suzie said sternly.
They were all in the back of the transit van, each having removed their masks, and now looking over the Major who was lying on the metal floor, drifting in and out of consciousness.
“
Look at him,” O’Connell said quietly. “He’s bleeding out. He’s not going to make it. What does it matter?”
“
What if he does make it?” Clarke asked.
“
Then he makes it, okay?” O’Connell snapped. “If we don’t get this guy on the retrieval chopper we get totalled with the rest of the city. He’s our meal ticket out of here. It’s pretty clear to me.”
“
We could take our chances on the expressway,” Clarke protested.
“
If you’re so sure you can make it past the zombies and get to the expressway before the city burns then go for it,” O'Connell said. “It’s your life, right?”
Clarke didn’t respond and O’Connell thought that maybe the kid had returned to using his brain instead of his instinct for self preservation.
“
Get the guy onto his feet,” O’Connell instructed. Amir and Clarke did as they were asked though the younger man was muttering under his breath.
“
Good job I know you’re not a squaddie, lad,” Shipman chuckled deliriously in Clarke’s ear. “You’d never pass for a soldier in that uniform.”
“
Yeah?” Clarke said. “Well, since I’m not the one who’s shot right now, I’d say that ain’t a bad thing.”
“
I guess you’re right,” Shipman said weakly.
“
First time on this trip,” Clarke said to himself.
***
They abandoned the van at the entrance of Hilton Towers, getting as close to the foyer as they could.
O’Connell and Suzie went in first and put down two zombies who were too distracted feeding on the remains of a large woman in a voluminous blue dress; the swathes of fabric pooling out beneath her mauled and mutilated body.
“
Stairs?” Suzie queried.
“
The Major will have to go in the elevator,” O’Connell said after a quick assessment. “I’ll go with him.”
“
If you go, we all go,” Suzie said adamantly.
“
No,” O’Connell said.
“
What’s this “no” bullshit?” Suzie’s eyes were a mix of anger and fear. O’Connell didn’t like to see her this way but was prepared for it. He stepped up to her and moved a limp strand of blonde hair away from her face.
“
Think it through, Suzie. We need this guy with us when the chopper comes,” O’Connell said. “We can’t carry him up the stairs and I’m not prepared to ask anyone else to stay with him.”
“
Then let Clarke and Amir take the stairs and I’ll come with you,” she offered. Her voice was close to pleading with him now.
“
The lift is too confined,” he said. “If the car stops on the way up and one of those things manages to get in …”
“
Then you need me there with you to save your sorry backside,” she said urgently.
“
No,” he said again. “I need to know that you’re safe - that you have some kind of chance.”
“
And what about what I need?” Suzie whispered miserably.
“
And what do you need, baby?”
“
You,” she said and kissed him deeply, hungrily and wanting it to last forever.
They broke off and held onto each other tightly for a moment. Then O’Connell stepped away and hit the “call elevator” button. From the shaft, a rumbling sound marked the car’s descent.
“
Go get our man,” he said. And Suzie turned to go.
“
I love you Susan Hanks,” he said and she spun around suddenly and ran to him. This time their embrace lasted until the elevator doors chimed open, two minutes later.
***
17
The elevator began its ascent; the walls and floor juddering under the draw of its pulley mechanism.
O’Connell had propped Shipman against the wall so that the Major faced the doors of the car. He was a strong guy, O’Connell impressed by the Major’s fight to stay conscious despite the pain and loss of blood.
“
Got a present for you,” Shipman said fumbling to unclip a pouch from his webbing. He handed it to O’Connell.
“
It’s not my birthday,” O’Connell said taking it and peering into the pack. “Grenades, eh? Might come in handy. Not in here though.” He winked at the Major who responded with a smile.
“
So why they kick you out?” Shipman said hoarsely.
“
A long story,” O’Connell said; his eyes and rifle fixed upon the golden car doors. “And you wouldn’t like the ending.”
“
I happen to like unhappy endings.”
“
Getting prepared for the real world, eh? You must’ve been a bundle to be around at school.”
“
Real world?” Shipman laughed weakly. “You mean like this?”
O’Connell nodded slowly and let go a sigh. “Who was prepared for this kind of party?”
“
It’s all become blurred, hasn’t it?” Shipman said.
“
Fuzzy as Hell.”
The car shuddered to a halt, stopping their conversation.
“
We there already?” Shipman asked.
O’Connell looked up at the panel adjacent to the doors.
“
No,” he said cocking his weapon.
***
“
For Christ’s sake, Clarke, will you keep up?” Suzie snapped.
“
Strange,” Clarke said sourly from the landing below, “but I’m in no rush to get eaten.”
“
You in a rush to get barbequed?” Suzie asked. “You heard what the plans are for this place. I felt sure that not ending up like a crispy chicken would motivate your pathetic ass.”
“
She loves me really,” Clarke muttered sarcastically.
They had made their way to the seventh floor without incident, the red carpet steering them onwards, upwards; taking each turn with extreme caution, the tension leaving their muscles taut and aching.
“
Where are all the tenants?” Amir questioned as the trio hit the eighth floor landing.
“
Maybe it’s a block party?” Clarke mused.
“
Maybe they went up to the roof?” Amir came back.
“
Why would they do that?” Suzie asked.
“
That could be where the survivors went,” he replied. “You know: to wait for rescue?”
“
It’s a possibility,” Suzie said uncomfortably. “That may mean that O’Connell could be walking in on a banquet.”
She began to pick up pace and Amir matched her stride.
Clarke watched them disappear round the balustrade and after a few seconds he followed; motivated not so much by the urgency of the moment as avoiding the fear of being alone.
***
In sedate horror, Thom Everett observed as his new found family lurched and lolled through the doorway and out onto the roof. Each newcomer appeared to check him over with their blue-glazed eyes before lining up with the others.
It was an incredulous and improbable image; an image straight from the movies; but with one subtle difference: Thom Everett was the star of the show. Yes, Thom Everett was playing the leading role in
I was a Teenage Zombie-Master
.
No sooner had this ludicrous thought slipped into his head, the urge to laugh came with it. At first it was a chuckle, but it was soon building in size and power, the way a Tsunami swells from the most innocuous of waves, until it is no longer diminished, but a colossus, monstrous, roaring surge of water smashing everything in its path to oblivion.
He bent double, eyes streaming with tears, nose bubbling with thick, sooty snot; and his sides pumping like an old mutt who has eaten too much grass.
Thom paused briefly and looked up at the silent, grisly crowd that continued to contemplate him; passive yet far from passé.
“
You guys kill me,” he squealed before he was taken away on another mirthless wave of laughter; laughter that was raucous and ambiguous and as close to madness as anyone could get without climbing into the pit and embracing it.
***
Although the elevator had stopped, the doors remained steadfast. With his rifle extended, and ready to deliver if they decided to suddenly open, O’Connell inched near up to the control panel.
He used the heel of his hand to hit the ebony button embossed with the words “Roof Terrace” in white, his action illuminating the letters, a beacon of hope on the darkness.
The car began moving again and O’Connell relaxed a little, moving back to Shipman.
The Major remained propped and ashen against the wall. His right leg was wet with blood and it had started to share it with the floor and, despite the mauve carpet’s best efforts to absorb it, the gory tide continued to pool, becoming a scarlet lake lapping on the surface of the expensive pile.
“
I’m not going to make it,” Shipman said weakly.
“
No, you’re not,” O'Connell said not wanting to insult the man’s intelligence. “Not in this car. We have to get on that chopper for you to stand any chance.”
“
The boy is more important,” Shipman muttered. “He’s the only hope we have of controlling this thing.”
There was something in the way the Major said “controlling” that caught O’Connell’s attention.
“
The RAF firestorm heading this way will be more effective wouldn’t it?”
“
Maybe, but even if it does, we both know this isn’t over,” Shipman coughed weakly. “You know how these things work.”
“
Is he marked?” O’Connell asked.
Shipman nodded. “Of course he is.”
“
By who?”
“
By the people who made him. By the military once they’re done sitting back and evaluating this whole mess. He’s the only constant in all of this. No-one can be sure of anything anymore.”
“
The rules are re-written, I guess?” O’Connell said gently. He wasn’t surprised; this was an epiphany that he’d embraced some time ago. It had since kept him successful, it had kept him alive.
“
Listen,” Shipman said, his voice wavering with the effort of it. “We’ve accepted that the rules have changed. I need you to promise me something; swear it: an oath from one marine to another.”