The Dead Walk The Earth (Book 3) (22 page)

Bull froze, staring back at him and waiting for the rounds to smash through his body. He was too close to be able to get out of their way, and if he suddenly lunged, Stan could easily mistake it for an attack. The sub-machinegun did not bark, and Bull remained alive as Stan recognised the man crouched in front of him. He fell back, resting his shoulders against the wall of the ditch and taking in long gulping breaths. His eyes were slowly beginning to focus and stabilise again, and his ears, although they still rang like church bells, could now hear Bull’s echoing and distant words.

The booms and thumps of the missiles had become stifled, and the rattle of machineguns seemed to be far away, even though he could see the enemy hovering just above their heads. His senses had taken a pounding, and it would be a while before they returned to him completely.

“You okay? Any injuries? Can you walk?”

Stan stared back at him. He nodded.

“Yeah, fine,” he replied in an amplified voice due to his partial deafness. “I just need to take a breather, and I’ll be ready to go.”

A few minutes later, as Stan and Bull began to slowly return to the real world, a new resonance began to fill the sky above them as a deep and steady beat reached their ears. More helicopters were on their way, but these were much larger and heavier aircraft than the swift moving Apaches and Cobras that were circling the airfield. Stan and Bull looked up, scanning the sky and looking for the source of the new sound.

Out towards the west and coming in low over the rolling farmland, a number of troop carrying helicopters were headed towards them. Stan recognised them as HC3 Merlin transporters, each of them capable of carrying up to forty-five fully equipped soldiers. From what he could see, there were at least seven of them headed for the interior of the island. Two of the Apaches that had assisted in the initial attack turned and headed towards them, taking up positions on their flanks, and ready to begin paving the way for the much slower Merlin helicopters.

“Overhead assault,” Stan grunted as he watched them glide through the air above their heads and continue eastwards. “They’re starting a ground assault on Newport.”

“They?” Bull replied as the aircraft passed over the hedge and out of sight. “Who’s they? Who do you think did this?”

Stan looked back at him and ran his hand down over his face, wiping the blood and grime from his eyes and away from his mouth. He paused for a moment and studied the skin on his palms before rubbing them over the material of his trousers.

“Sam said they were picking up strange transmissions from the west coast, and none of the aircraft they sent to check had returned.” He looked out across the field and nodded towards the menacing looking Cobras that continued to circle above, hunting for targets. “I’m guessing that they’re
them
.”

Both of them sat watching the total destruction that had been inflicted upon the airfield within a matter of minutes. Whoever
they
were, their shock and surprise had been complete. No one had been ready for the attack, and it was doubtful that anybody else, other than Bull and Stan, had survived at the airfield.

“You had comms with Taff?” Bull asked, indicating the ruined radio he had attached to his own harness. Something had ripped a hole right through the centre of it.

Stan clicked his mic.

“Taff, Stan, radio check.” He paused for a few seconds. “Taff, Stan, radio check,” he repeated, staring back at Bull and praying that their lack of communication was due to their radios and not that the rest of the team had undergone the same devastating kind of strike.

“Taff, Stan, answer up, for Christ’s sake.”

“Stan, Taff, where the fuck are you? I’ve been trying to get hold of you for the last five minutes. What’s happening down there?”
Taff’s voice sounded anxious, and he was speaking at twice his normal speed.

“We’re still at the airfield,” Stan replied. He looked back over his shoulder and then lowered his mouth back towards his radio. “Or at least what’s left of it. All our aircraft are gone. You having any dramas up there?”

“Not at the moment. A company sized group have landed in the low ground to the east of us. The refugee camp took a pounding.”

“You receiving any incoming?”

“Negative. I don’t think they even know we’re here. We’re just watching our arcs at the moment. Everything seems to be concentrated towards the centre of the island and the defences around Newport.”

“Good,” Stan nodded. “Stay put and hold…”

Another earth shattering blast went off just forty metres away from where Stan and Bull were crouching in the ditch. The pair of them winced, tucking their heads as deep between their shoulders as they could while every ounce of air was sucked out of their lungs. The ground shook and the shock wave forced the hedgerow to sway violently. A moment later, a shower of debris and clods of dirt began to rain down into the ditch, thwacking into the mud around their feet. As the effects of the detonation subsided, they slowly raised their heads again, emerging from their torsos like turtles peeping out from inside their shells.

“As I was saying,” Stan continued speaking to Taff. “Stay firm, and hold the position. Avoid contact, and if you need to bug-out, head towards the south-west of the island. The old church, a kilometre down the coast, will be the ERV. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

“Roger that.”

“They okay up there?”

“For now, they are.”

“I hope that wanker, Bobby, isn’t assuming that I’m already dead and rifling through my kit,” Bull snorted.

“We need to move,” Stan said as he pulled himself up into a standing position, bent double at the waist. He pushed his way passed Bull, headed south along the ditch and away from the airfield. “There’s nothing we can do here now.”

“Let’s just hope we don’t get cut off before we reach Taff and the others,” Bull grumbled as he followed, thinking of the units that Taff had reported landing on the southern side of the island in the area of the refugee camp.

“We’re not going home yet.”

“Where we going, then?”

“We need to get to Newport first,” Stan replied over his shoulder as he continued to move south, pushing through the thorny bushes, and trudging through sucking mud.

“Bollocks,” Bull exclaimed under his breath as he began following after him. “I had a feeling you were going to say that.”

Grumbling and cursing, Bull slogged his way along through the ditch. After a few metres, his foot stood in something soft beneath the muddy water. The sound of crunching bone emitted from beneath his boot as he stepped into the remains of a human being. It took a lot of effort to free himself, and the smell that plumed up from beneath his filth covered boot was enough to make him gag.

“Brilliant,” he snarled. “Absolutely fucking brilliant.”

They had two kilometres of hostile ground to cover to Newport, and they needed to get in and out before the ring was closed around the town. Bull knew why they were going, but he still did not like it. However, Stan was not the sort that would take kindly to someone disobeying his orders, especially in the middle of a battle.

They pushed on, headed for the horizon that glowed brightly as the town continued to crumble beneath the onslaught. Bull watched the sky above the rooftops of the Isle of Wight’s capital, seeing the helicopters mercilessly hammering away at the defending troops beneath. Columns of smoke and debris were flying high into the air, snatching up men and women along with them and tossing them back down to the ground, smashed and dismembered. Death was quickly filling the streets and anything moving was ruthlessly cut down.

Bull saw more enemy troops being transported up to the front lines in the helicopters that seemed to be blacking out the sky. He paused and looked at the death and destruction around him. It was a scene straight from the Bible depicting the end of times, and Stan was leading him directly into hell.

14

They had all been assembled and ready to move for quite some time, waiting with coiled nerves and growing apprehension. Hardly a word was spoken as Taff and the others prepared themselves to flee from the island. Everything was ready, and now they sat and waited, watching the night sky and willing the dawn to arrive. The atmosphere was tense, and everyone was lost in their own thoughts as the time drew nearer. Nobody wanted to think beyond the next few hours. Anything could happen in that short space of time, and the entire plan could come to a crashing halt from any one of the numerous and ruinous scenarios.

It was always possible that Stan and Bull could be discovered at the airfield. The helicopter could be shot down on take-off, or the anti-aircraft defences aboard the HMS Illustrious could blow them all out of the sky before they had even made it a kilometre from the island. The list of possibilities was endless and the majority of them were out of the hands of the people who would be nothing more than passengers aboard the aircraft. Their fate was going to be placed entirely in the hands of the pilots, and all of them hoped more than anything that Samantha had chosen their ride with care. If they made it to the mainland in one piece, they would face an entirely new set of potential disasters.

“What time is it?”

“Bobby, you asked me that same question five minutes ago. Now take a wild guess on what the time is now,” Taff snapped back at him in a hushed growl. “Go on. I bet you can’t work it out without having to take your boots off and using your toes to help you count.”

“Piss off. You’re waffling shit,” Bobby spat back at him. “That was hours ago. Your watch must be knackered.”

They were all anxious and keen to get started, to get on with the mission and have it all over and done with. Hardly any of them had been able to sleep, and the night had seemed to last forever with the minutes seemingly rolling backwards. Those who did manage to nod off were soon awakened with a start as their troubled and fretful dreams snapped them back to the real world. Most of them had given up, annoyed at the slightest noise or movement dragging them from their slumber. The only people who seemed capable of getting any rest were William and Richard. The pair of them lay curled up on the old couch, snoring loudly and seemingly without a care in the world.

Taff and Bobby were supposed to be the ones on sentry duty, but many of the others had joined them, taking up their own positions and waiting for the day to get underway. They sat staring into the darkness, shivering against the cold wind, and listening to the distant, ghostly moans of the infected as they traversed the island through the blackness. The survivors stayed at their posts, haunted by the unseen dead, and clutching their rifles close. There was nothing else for them to do but wait.

“You heard anything over the net at all? A sit-rep or anything like that?” Bobby tried again to engage Taff with talk.

The uneasy silence was playing havoc with his stress levels, and speaking to someone was the only thing that he could turn to in order to stop his mind from running away with him. He had considered going to look for Samantha, but right now, he needed Taff more. He did not want to be worrying about saying the right things at that moment. He had always found general conversation between men and women as being overcomplicated, having to study body language, and being careful about word selection. He understood that it was a necessary evil and that he would not get far if he avoided it altogether. However, talking was a much more simplified activity between two men.

Taff slowly shook his head, the moonlight reflecting brightly from his eyes as he stared towards the north and in the general direction of the airfield. He understood how Bobby was feeling. He felt the same way, but he had better control of his nerves. Bobby was a good man and one of his closest friends, but he had a habit of letting his emotions get the better of him.

“Stan said he won’t risk making comms until they had made the RV and confirmed that the heli and crew are good to go,” Taff replied, reminding Bobby of the plan and what they had all agreed upon.

Bobby knew the protocol and was fully aware of the communications aspect of their task, but the suspense and uncertainty were weighing heavily on his mind. He had wanted to go with Stan and Bull, but his request had been denied, Stan insisting that he remain behind to help with the final preparations.

“Yeah, I know that, but a simple radio check would’ve been nice. It feels like Christmas, and I’m not sure if I’m on the ‘naughty list’.”

“I know what you mean,” Taff chuckled quietly.

The previous evening as it began to grow dark, Samantha had returned from Newport, bringing two members of the operations staff with her. The two young soldiers could not have been much older than twenty or so. They looked scared and unsure of themselves, but Samantha vouched for the pair of them. Neither of them had served in infantry units, and most of their time in the forces had been taken up behind computer screens, monitoring communications and relaying them to their commanders. Out of all the men and women she knew in Newport, they were the only ones she felt she could completely trust, and it had taken a lot of courage on their behalf to join her.

She had considered asking Gerry, but as of late, he had seemed unreliable. Samantha had already told him what she and Melanie had briefly spoken about, but his reaction had been indecipherable. He had not made any indication about how he felt on the matter. She could not risk telling him that they were planning to leave that very same night.

The three of them had arrived in two Land Rovers stolen from the command staff and packed with supplies that they had managed to rifle from the stores before deserting their posts. The team were grateful of the extra ammunition, and the group as a whole appreciated the cold weather equipment and army rations that they had brought with them.

Each member of the group had a pack filled with what they needed to survive. Taff had overseen the storing of the kit, ensuring that only essential items were being taken. They may find themselves needing to move swiftly and could not afford to be dragging any dead weight along with them. A change of clothes, enough food and water to last for a few days, and most importantly, ammunition. Every single round was to be taken, regardless of the weight. Eleven backpacks sat in a neat line in front of the house, ready to be hauled onto the tailgate of the helicopter as soon as it landed.

Kyle was sitting beside Samantha. She had come along and joined him in the western sentry position almost two hours ago after admitting defeat with her attempts at sleep. Neither of them had spoken the entire time. In fact, he had said very little to her in the whole time that he had been a member of the team. It was not that he did not want to; he just did not want to step on Bobby’s toes and create any conflict within the fragile group. Samantha was most definitely his type, but he was not the sort to attempt to move in on another man’s territory. He had opted for keeping his distance completely, not even attempting to strike up much in the way of conversation and keeping any communication with her cold and succinct. Now, they were both sitting in close proximity with nothing but their thoughts to occupy them.

“Where do you think we’ll end up?” Samantha asked, finally breaking the oppressive silence and leaving the veteran with no option but to engage her. “When we get to the mainland, I mean. Where do you think we’ll go?”

He shrugged and remained lost in his own thoughts for a moment. He was not sure about how to answer the question. He did not want to suddenly unleash a torrent of theories and opinions on her, making himself look foolish in the process and as though he had been resisting the urge to speak to her for the entire time. On the other hand, he did not want to come across as being rude or indifferent. It had been a while since he had spoken to a woman properly and alone. He lingered for a short while, trying to think of what he should and should not say. He was out of practice.

“I don’t really care, to be honest,” he sighed, finally. He had decided to just say whatever came into his mind. The worst that could happen was that his brashness would put her off speaking to him again. “Just as long as it’s far from here and out in the middle of nowhere, and with good views in all directions. City life isn’t for me, I’m afraid. Especially in this day and age. Far too crowded.”

He turned to her and grinned.

“Yeah, I agree,” she replied, returning the smile. “Definitely keeping away from the urban areas. I never did like them before all this shit started, anyway. I think a castle would be nice. I always wanted to live in a castle when I was a little girl.”

“Who didn’t?”

They both became quiet for a few minutes. Samantha was remembering times from her childhood, dressed as a Princess and dreaming of knights and castles. Kyle’s thoughts were a little less complicated and much more corrupt. He was picturing Samantha naked. He could not help himself, and the images were not doing him any good at that moment. He gritted his teeth and mentally shook himself. He needed to wipe the thoughts from his head and put his mind to better use. He twisted and looked back over his shoulder, checking the horizon and judging the amount of time they had left to wait. He consulted his watch and nodded to himself, confirming that his estimation was correct.

“It’s starting to get light,” he whispered and then nodded towards the north. “Stan and Bull should be meeting your friends any minute now. You sure they’re reliable, the two chopper drivers?”

“As reliable as anyone is these days, I suppose. They were friends with Mel and Mike, and it was
they
who approached me first when they heard that she was missing. I wasn’t exactly spoilt for choices, so I took their offer.”

“Aye, we’d be swimming, otherwise,” Kyle offered in way of acknowledging the fact that Samantha had actually done well to come up with the goods.

“We can trust them,” she nodded with conviction.

“Yeah well, I guess we’ll soon see.”

The minutes continued to tick by and the point where the sea met the sky, far off to the east, slowly began to grow brighter. Above them, the night was steadily being chased away across the heavens and towards the west where it still held its dominance. The time to move would be upon them very soon. Everyone prepared themselves, checking their equipment and weapons once again and ensuring that every member of the group was awake and alert. The open area in front of the house had been nominated as the landing zone. The wind was blowing in from the north-east, so when the aircraft came in to land, the tail would be facing the house and the two rows of people and equipment waiting to board.

Richard stepped out from the main door and into the cold air. He shuddered, hunching his shoulders and rubbing his hands together as he continued to shake off the sleep that was stubbornly clinging to his chilled bones. Next, he flung his hands out to his sides and raised himself up onto his toes, stretching the stiffness out of his joints and yawning loudly. He stepped to the side of the door and into the shadow of the house. A few seconds later, and the sound of trickling water could be heard as he relieved himself against the wall. He gasped and groaned, savouring the feeling of the release as his bladder slowly emptied. He zipped up his trousers and turned away, snorting and spitting as he walked across the unkempt lawns and headed for the eastern trench.

“Now that that’s out the way, is there anything for breakfast?” he whispered loudly and to no one in particular.

He placed a cigarette between his lips and reached for his lighter and then suddenly stopped. He glanced up and saw the dark sky above them and remembered what the men of the team had taught him about smoking at night. He would wait until he reached the sentry position and hunker down into the bottom of the trench before lighting his morning smoke. He stepped forward and headed for the shallow dugout where he knew Bobby and Taff would be sitting behind the machinegun.

“I don’t fancy starting our adventure on an empty…”

His legs, turning to jelly in an instant, fell from beneath him. A sudden crushing force pressing down from above made him drop into the wet grass and curl himself into a ball, clasping his hands to the sides of his head, and yowling at the top of his lungs with his face buried into the dirt. The sky seemed to suddenly crash down upon him with a crunching bang, pushing him into the earth. Richard’s head felt as though it was about to implode from the sudden and violent change in air-pressure. A hurricane had abruptly erupted directly above the house, cutting him off in mid-sentence, and forcing everyone to drop to the floor, clasping their ears and howling back against the shock. The ground reverberated beneath them, and the bricks of the house seemed to rattle against their foundations.

“What the fuck…” Taff yelled out to Bobby as he twisted his body and turned his head and eyes up towards the sky.

A blast of heat washed against his face and raged against his eye sockets, drying them instantly, and making him blink rapidly. An intensely bright light roared across the sky just above their positions. There was a short moment of vacuum as the glowing ball of fire displaced the air, rendering the men and women below unable to breathe. Gasping and writhing in the mud, the group became like fish on land, incapable of anything other than fighting to breathe. When the atmosphere returned, the smell of aviation fuel was overpowering as the trail of smoke clung to the airspace above them.

Bobby and Taff were already scrambling to their feet and watching the missile as it continued along its trajectory, headed straight across the island and out over the sea again. In the distance, silhouetted by the brightening horizon, they could see the cluster of warships that were keeping their vigil on the island and the English Channel. A moment later, and the bomb struck with a mighty flash, sending up a fountain of white flame and black smoke from the HMS Illustrious. An immense hole must have been ripped through its hull, as even from that distance, Bobby and Taff could see the vessel begin to take on a severe list just seconds after the impact. More detonations quickly followed and erupted from the ship as its lower decks began to explode. Chunks of its superstructure were hurled high into the air and crashed back into the sea all around the stricken vessel as huge plumes of fire spouted up from its decks. In the blinding flashes of the bursting munitions, the small armada of vessels were outlined against the backdrop of the burning aircraft carrier.