Necropolis Rising (19 page)

“
Plenty,” Carpenter said. “And it’s not good.”

***

“
Take it easy, Amir,” O’Connell said firmly. “It’s just us.”

“
May the Lord save me from myself!” Amir said clutching his heart through his fatigues. “I thought you were those things.”

“
Some thanks that is,” Clarke snorted. “I thought we were a little less gross.”

“
Some of us are,” Suzie sniped.

“
How did we do?” Amir asked O’Connell.

“
We delivered,” O’Connell said grimly. “But it came at cost.”

Amir suddenly realised that one of their number was missing. “Kunaka?”

O’Connell shook his head.

“
May the lord keep him,” Amir whispered bowing his head.

“
We can mourn later,” O’Connell said resolutely. “We’ve done the job. Now we have to get out of here.”

“
Plenty of motors,” Clarke observed after a cursory glance about the car park.

“
The roads are cluttered with shit and zombies. We may not get far,” Amir cautioned.

“
There’s little alternative,” Suzie said. “We have to hot wire one of these vehicles and get gone.”

“
We need a weapons check,” O’Connell suggested just as the group of zombies from the first floor spilled out through the fire door onto the metal platform.

Clarke lifted his SA80 and splattered their bodies with high explosive bullets.

“
I can confirm that mine still works,” he grinned.

“
Child,” Suzie said under her breath.

“
Let’s get a vehicle,” O'Connell said.

The car park was splashed with the sodium glow from high intensity floods highlighting fifteen or so vehicles. Clarke made his way over to a blue Subaru Impreza WRX.

“
Oh, let’s have this,” he said, almost skipping towards it. “Turbo charged 16 valve 265 break horsepower. Come to me baby!”

“
Forget it, Clarkey,” O’Connell said. “It’s got an immobilizer. So unless you want to hop back inside and ask our undead buddies who’d like to give up their keys, I’d suggest
that
.”

Clarke followed O’Connell’s outstretched finger and moaned in disgust.

“
A transit van?” he said, his face wrinkling at the abhorrence of such a suggestion. “Give me few minutes and I’m sure I could find a feckin’ moped I looked hard enough.”

“
The van can be hotwired and it only has three windows,” O’Connell said. “Now get moving.”

The group trudged over to the transit and Suzie shot out the lock on the driver’s side. After clambering inside she opened the passenger door and finally the double doors at the back of the vehicle.

Amir and Clarke climbed in the back both having to navigate through a pile of electronic equipment loaded in the storage bay. Once deep inside, the two men began to create some space by throwing the contents out onto the tarmac. Once they were satisfied that they’d enough room, the doors were slammed closed with a good, solid thump.

Up front, O’Connell snapped open the steering column and removed the ignition barrel. Having sparked and twisted the two wires together, the engine fired and now lay idling.

He reversed the van out of its slot, parked between a mini Cooper and a beaten up Vauxhall Vectra, and drove to the gates some forty metres away.

Here he jumped out, removing a Browning automatic and pumped three bullets into the gate’s locking mechanism. Then he climbed back into the cab and drew forward, nudging the gate open, metal grinding against metal, until they were clear.

They had gone only a third of a mile before the first of the zombies were upon them. It was a crowd of football supporters; their sheer number providing an impregnable wall of bodies. Like moths to a flame, the horde turned to face the oncoming headlights, mouths wide and dark and dribbling.

“
Gotta turn around,” O’Connell said pulling up and slamming the van into reverse, the gears grinding with an unpleasant screech.

The van thumped into a lamp post felling it like a metal tree. O’Connell fed the gear roughly into first and continued back the way they came.

“
If we can just get out of the enclosed places, and get to the ring road, we'll stand a better chance,” he said, peering out into the streets.

“
You think we’re gonna make it?” Clarke asked.

“
Damn right you’ll make it,” O'Connell said. “I’m making sure of it.”

Suzie sat quietly beside O’Connell, her expression blank but her mind active. At that moment optimism was a shy creature naked in the darkness. Sure, they had completed the job, but getting out - the part that should’ve been a time for reflection and quiet celebration - appeared to be turning into a hopeless affair. She fingered the rifle resting in her lap and was overcome by the gnawing realization that despite their rifles and pistols the enemy had a far greater, far more potent weapon. And that weapon was
purpose
. It kept this inhuman race staunch and unyielding and undeterred. Suzie questioned if even O’Connell’s commitment could match them.

“
You with me?” he said beside her.

“
Always,” she said with a drawn smile.

The van accelerated and approached a T junction. O’Connell took a right hand turn and the imposing structure of Hilton Towers loomed over them.

“
You didn’t indicate back there, driver,” Clarke said from the back of the van. “How did you get a license?”

“
I never said I had a license,” O'Connell said. “You want to drive, Mr. Subaru?”

“
You carry on my man,” Clarke said. “I’m getting used to this chauffer driven gig.”

“
You better had,” Amir mused. “Because: we’ll have enough money in our accounts to have a small army of chauffeurs on our payroll.”

“
Yes,” Clarke grinned. “You’re right! Now that’s a good thought.”

Suzie nodded. She was hungry for a few good thoughts at that moment. And she was prepared to accept them from whoever dished them out, even Clarke.

It was a day of wonders, after all.

“
Another left at the end of Hilton Towers and we’ll be parallel to the Aston Express Way. Then we’ll head towards Lichfield and Tamworth,” O’Connell told them.

“
What of the road blocks?” Amir asked.

“
One step at a time,” O’Connell said.

The van was continuing on its route to the next junction until O’Connell saw something that made him suddenly pull over and leap out of the cab; leaving Suzie screaming for him to come back.

***

“
Alpha Team is compromised,” Carpenter said in Shipman’s headset.

The Major thought about this, digesting and processing the information, his emotions switched off.

“
You still there, Major?”

“
I’m here, Sir,” Shipman confirmed. “Do we have a name?”

“
Honeyman,” Carpenter said immediately.

“
Keene and Connors are dead. Honeyman is still with me.” Shipman fell silent for a few seconds. Then, “Do we know why?”

“
Money of course,” Carpenter said with disdain. “Phoenix Industries have obtained his services to secure Thom Everett and prepare him for retrieval.”

“
There’s no guarantee the boy is still alive,” Shipman said. “Hilton Towers has taken a pounding.”

“
He’s alive alright, Major. By all accounts the kid is tagged and monitored via a subcutaneous chip in his back. Designed and manufactured by Phoenix Industries, of course. They like to keep an eye on their investments.”

“
Whittington was his baby sitter?”

“
So it would appear,” Carpenter said.

“
That’s a little like overkill for a failed experiment, isn’t it?” Shipman said doubtfully.

“
Everett is far more than that, Major,” the Colonel said. “The boy experienced side effects during the study. Side effects that not even Whittington and his investors could’ve envisioned.”

“
Like what?”

“
During the trials the kid was pronounced clinically dead for ten minutes. In that time, like the others, he became one of The Risen. But something unexpected happened. After a series of convulsions he collapsed and when he came round, Everett was human again.”

“
I am aware of this, Sir,” Shipman reminded the Colonel.

“
Indeed, Major,” Carpenter conceded. “But what you may be unaware of are the ramifications of this event.”

“
Ramifications? You mean Everett’s potential as a cure?”

“
That and more, Major,” Carpenter said. “Everett, it appears, is able to
connect
with The Risen.”

“
Connect?” Shipman said in disbelief. “You mean:
communicate
with them?”

“
You are no more surprised than Phoenix Industries,” Carpenter said. “They have designated him
The Necromancer
.”

“
That’s incredible,” Shipman breathed as he considered the implications of such a faculty.

“
I agree. Professor Daniels suspects that it has something to do with what he calls NNR Necroneuro Residue; it allows the boy to find some psychic middle ground with The Risen, a place where they can comprehend reason in its most base form.”

“
I’m beginning to see the implications of this,” Shipman whispered.

“
Oh, yes,” Carpenter interjected. “Daniels was very excited about it all. He almost forgot that Harte was holding a Browning at his head. If Everett can communicate with The Risen then he can control them. He is commander of the ultimate weapon, Shipman,” Carpenter said in a hushed voice. “Can you see how easily one without scruple could be seduced by such a notion?”

“
And Phoenix Industries could sell the boy to the highest bidder,” Shipman envisaged. “A blank cheque.”

“
Quite.”

“
Orders, Sir?” Shipman asked.

“
Eliminate Honeyman, Major,” Carpenter instructed. “Then proceed as planned. Retrieve the boy. I have been informed that Honeyman has made contact and requested the retrieval helicopter. We shall intercept and send our own. With luck you we should see you within the hour.”

“
And if luck is against us?”

“
I have orders to neutralize the city at 01.00 hours, Major. Squadrons of Tornadoes have already been scrambled and will carpet bomb the entire city with incendiaries. Nothing, living or otherwise, will leave Birmingham when it is over.”

“
Understood.”

“
God’s speed, Major.”

“
Consider it done, Sir,” Shipman said cocking his weapon.

“
I learned a long time ago never to take things as a given, Major.”

It took him a moment but Shipman realised that the owner of these words wasn’t Colonel Carpenter.

They belonged to Private Honeyman.

***

“
Want to tell me why?” Shipman asked dead pan.

“
Why?” Honeyman mocked as he stepped out of the shadows. “There’s no easy answer, despite what you might think.”

Shipman looked down at the rifle in Honeyman’s hands. The marine lifted it, the street lights touching the grease on its black muzzle making it ambiguously beautiful.

“
I agree. I don’t think treason is something that has an easy answer.”

“
Don’t be so pious, Major,” Honeyman snarled. “We’ve all done things in the name of a cause. This isn’t any different. Now drop the weapon.”

“
That’s not going to happen,” Shipman said matter of fact. “If I’m to die today it will be as a marine; with a rifle in my hand and defending my country. Not kneeling, waiting for a bullet to the back of my head. So take your best shot.”

Reflex born from years of training sent Shipman diving to his left, just as Honeyman discharged a volley of shots; the muzzle flashes reflecting off of his face plate.

Three bullets struck Shipman in the leg, one passing clean through the right thigh, the others shattering his fibula. He landed heavily on the pavement, his rifle almost spinning from his grasp; his injured leg cramped with fiery pain. He clenched his teeth and used his elbows to drag himself into a blasted doorway just as another burst of automatic fire peppered the walls and floor around him.

“
Get your ass out here, Shipman!” Honeyman taunted. “Come and face me like a man.”

“
You’re a disgrace to your country,” Shipman said through teeth clenched in pain. He brought his gun up, ready for his ally-turned-foe to show himself.

“
Have it your way, Major,” Honeyman said. “I’ll go get the kid and fly out of here and you can stay and bleed to death or end up lunch for our undead friends.”

Good psychology, Shipman thought; but then, Honeyman had been trained by the best: SAS interrogators out of Hereford. He knew how to play it.

Shipman used the back of his sleeve to wipe sweat out his eyes. It was an instant that Honeyman exploited to the maximum. The marine watched his commanding officer raise his arm to his face then charged at the doorway; his weapon spitting out bullets and ejecting spent cartridges. He used this barrage to close down space and as his magazine finally emptied, Honeyman towered over Shipman and kicked the rifle out of the Major’s hands.