The Dead Walk The Earth II (10 page)

6

Back at the barn, Danny and Bull hefted their cargo out from the rear of the Land Rover and carried it towards the house. Stan was standing, watching them and as usual, he gave off no indication of whether he was happy to see them or not. The large red scars, sustained during the battle at Manchester airport, running down the side of his face and neck made him appear more ferocious than ever.

“How did you get on?” He asked.

“No dramas,” Marty replied as he climbed out from the driver’s door, clutching a cigarette between his teeth. “I think they have everything they need now and I get the impression that the counter offensive is going to begin pretty soon.”

“You think so?”

Marty slung his rifle and pack over his shoulder, and shrugged violently to encourage the heavy equipment to sit comfortably on his aching muscles. Stan turned and they walked side by side back towards the front of the house.

“Well, yeah,” Marty grunted as they entered in through the wide doorway and placed his kit down beside it. “There’s a lot of prep going on down there at HQ and all the brass are running about like headless chickens.”

“Yeah, I’ve had a warning order from Gerry,” Stan replied while his attention was focussed on the crate that was being placed in the centre of the floor. “He says that it could begin within the next couple of weeks but since most of our forces never made it back from the Middle East and Korea, they have decided on narrowing the spearhead instead of the Blitzkrieg style offensive they were hoping for. They’re concentrating their efforts on just a handful of cities to begin with now and then, moving on to further ops once the initial objectives are complete and secure. What have you brought back?”

Bull looked across at Marty then grinned back at their commander. He snapped the locking clasps up and with the toe of his boot, he kicked off the lid to the armoured box and revealed its interior.

Inside Stan saw the four car batteries, fuse boxes, transformer, and a mass of cables and other electronics and testing equipment that he had ordered them to bring back. There was another crate within the box and Stan blinked with disbelief when he read the yellow stencilling and saw the warning labels. He took a cautious step back and looked at Marty.

“What the fuck are you doing with a bunch of S-Mines?”

“We found them,” Marty replied casually.

“We thought they would come in handy when the fight for the mainland starts,” Danny added as he looked down into the box with an admiring eye.

Stan rubbed at the irritating fresh skin around the scars on his cheek and continued to stare down into the box. He had seen the carnage caused by those mines throughout Africa and Bosnia. They were effective and completely indiscriminate.

Commonly known as a ‘Bouncing Betty’, the S-Mine was an anti-personnel mine that when triggered, would spring up from the ground and detonate at waist level. Throwing out hundreds of high-velocity ball bearings, they were designed to maim rather than kill. As a result, soldiers that would otherwise be continuing the battle would instead find themselves trying to help their wounded comrades. Designed by the Germans in the Second World War, they had since ceased to be used by western armies but variants of them still existed in the east and other parts of the world.

“It’s okay, Stan,” Danny assured him as he reached in and removed the box of deadly explosives. “We’ve checked them and they’re safe. I’ll keep them stored out of the way where they can’t do any harm.”

“Whatever you say,” Stan shook his head and watched as Danny carefully walked away with the mines. Then he saw the bottles of whisky and vodka and just as Samantha had guessed, a pile of adult magazines.

Realising that Stan was saying nothing, Bull felt obliged to justify their other items. He stepped closer to the box and began pulling out various items.

“Well we had to bring something back for the rest of the kids, Stan. You couldn’t be the only one getting presents. That wouldn’t be fair, and besides,” he grinned, “pickings are pretty slim around here in the way of female company. Danny won’t wear the lingerie we got him so what else are we supposed to do?”

“Fuck off, Bull,” Danny called from the next room.

“Hey, Danny, it’s not our fault you have an arse like a ten year old boy, is it?”

Stan knew that it was pointless to protest over the alcohol and now that the stuff was splayed out in front of him, the idea of having a few glasses of whisky in the evening were becoming more appealing. He shook his head and leaned in to retrieve the batteries with his good arm. Since the explosion at the airport that had killed Brian, the nerve and tissue damage to his right arm had rendered it almost useless and he had come to rely more upon his left.

Bull was watching him intently as he manipulated the heavy batteries.

“You right or left handed, Stan?” He asked innocently and with a frown of contemplation creasing the skin on his forehead.

“Right handed,” Stan replied. “Well I used to be before it was shredded and turned into Swiss Cheese. Why?”

Bull shrugged indifferently as he picked up one of the adult magazines. It had been a Christmas edition from the previous year and displayed an extremely attractive blonde woman dressed in a provocative and seductive version of a Sanata Clause outfit on the front cover. He began to flick through the pages, pausing briefly when a particular picture caught his eye.

“Just wondering how you manage to wank is all.”

There was a sharp audible intake of breath from around the room but Bull was not deterred. He barely noticed that everyone had become frozen statues, waiting to see what was going to happen next. He trundled on with his vocalised thoughts in spite of the glares from his commander. As usual, the big man did not have his filter in place and his thoughts were pouring from his lips with no consideration to where his words could lead, or the damage they could cause.

“I’ve tried it with my left but it just ends up doing its own thing. I don’t have as much control, the elbow goes in different directions, and I lose rhythm. Before I know it, I’m pretty much just battering away at my plonker and almost ripping it from its foundations. Actually it’s a bit like…”

“Bull,” Stan said calmly and stopped him in mid ramble, “shut up.”

Bull paused and looked around the room at the faces of the others. Even Emily who had entered from one of the adjacent rooms, smiling and about to welcome the men back from their long and dangerous mission was staring back at him with her mouth hanging open and a look of disgust and horror etched into her features.

“Oh, right,” Bull said with embarrassment as he realised that he had allowed his mouth to slip into autopilot again. “Sorry.”

“Bobby,” Stan shouted into the next room as he shook his head in bewilderment at Bull, “get Richie over here and have these hooked up to the generator. Get him to work his magic on all this as soon as possible.”

Bobby appeared at the doorway, and after a short reunion and exchange of insults with Bull and the others, he left through the front door to carry out Stan’s orders. He still walked with a slight limp and was careful of every step. The cracked vertebrate he had suffered along with the broken ribs after jumping from the control tower were healed but he was still not back to full fitness and he had spent the better part of two months in a hospital bed and undergoing a number of operations and treatments for his injuries.

For months, the men had been having to scrounge and save on fuel. It was one of the many things that the island was short of. The barn had been in the process of being converted into a house and there was still a lot of building materials lying about. They had discovered that the owner had been intending to have the power partially supplied from solar panels and that the battery system had already been installed. Danny had come up with the great idea of hooking up their generator directly to the house power cells and fuse box, and almost blew himself up, along with the barn, in the process. The batteries had been overloaded and were now useless since then they had decided to use the fuel consuming generator thriftily and leave mauling with the electronics to the experts.

Then Bobby had met Richard, a Civil Engineer who agreed to take care of their problem but since the army were reluctant to part with the necessary equipment that he needed, they would need to find the parts elsewhere. The units who had arrived before them had already rifled the island and much of the equipment had been claimed. That did not deter the men from thieving what they needed when they had the chance but most encampments soon began posting guards specifically to watch out for people breaking in to steel from them. Instead, Stan’s team had to turn to the mainland in order to get what they needed.

Now, with battery power and the generator and solar panels keeping them charged, Richard would be able to install a basic water heating system from the equipment that had been abandoned there. The huge oven, which had a habit of consuming the diesel from the generator’s fuel tank almost as quickly as they could put it in, could also now be used from time to time. With each scavenging expedition things were looking better, and despite the gaping holes in the roof and walls that were covered by canvas sheeting and sandbags, they were comfortable.

Taff, his arms laden with chopped wood, entered into the house through the large bay doors that led out to the rear and overlooked the English Channel. Young William was in tow and as equally burdened and concentrating on keeping the logs from slipping.

“Ah, Billy the Kid,” Bull roared when he saw the boy. “How the devil are you? Have you been keeping up with your pistol training?”

William placed the wood down onto the pile by the chimney breast, smiled up at the large man, and indicated the pistol he had strapped to his waist. Stan had insisted that everyone, including Emily and her son, should train regularly with the weapons they had. Emily had been reluctant but William had been more than willing to learn. Bull looked down at the holster attached to the boy’s belt, saw the dull glint of the weapon, and instantly turned to Stan with a look of concern in his eyes.

“Oh, it’s not loaded,” William assured him, pulling the slender Browning High-Power from its holster and turning it so that Bull could see into the hollow magazine housing. “Stan said I should keep it with me so that I get used to carrying it and practicing with it.”

Bull smiled down at him and patted him on the head with his huge hand that almost covered the whole of the child’s cranium.

“Good drills, mate. Make sure you always keep it within arm’s reach. We’ll make a proper soldier of you yet, Billy.”

“Not if I can help it,” Emily called across from the doorway with a smile. “He’ll be staying here, on the island, with me, until the mainland is safe again.”

“Sounds like the lady of the house has spoken, Billy,” Bull said down to him with mock disappointment. “You’d better listen to what she says, mate.”

William looked up and then quickly turned away in annoyance. It was clear that he and his mother had already argued extensively over the matter and for the time being, Emily had the final say. Since their rescue from Manchester, Emily and William had kept themselves close to the men of the team and became a part of the group with their own roles and responsibilities. There were no objections from any of them over the unspoken arrangement and with the only other option, being to live in the refugee camp, the mother and son had been adopted by Stan and his soldiers and kept under their protection.

Taff was slowly rising from a squatting position after dropping the heap of wood onto the pile by the fireplace. He grunted and winced with each movement as he straightened his legs and back, grimacing with each painful movement. Bull watched him and could not help but find it amusing as he witnessed his friend’s suffering.

“So how’s the little princess?” Bull taunted.

Taff turned and glared at him for a moment and could already feel the blood within his veins beginning to heat up. The moment he heard them arrive, he knew that there would be a degree of abuse headed his way. It was how they were. It was never meant to offend or upset and it was just their way of conveying their affection for one another. Still, there were always times when the ridiculing would go too far or the person on the receiving end was just not in the mood.

“I’d like to see you jump about like a gymnast after a broken ankle, dislocated knee, and a cracked pelvis. Other than that I’m fine. Now wind your neck in.”

“You poor little lamb,” Bull continued with a sneer as he sat himself down onto the large couch in front of the chimney breast. “Do you need a cuddle? While you cripples are busy mincing about here, we able-bodied sorts are getting things done and risking our lives on the mainland. I really don’t know how you sleep at night, Taff. Now if you don’t mind, make us a brew and run me a bath. There’s a good boy.”

As Stan and Marty began emptying the box, Bull made the mistake of allowing his attention to become focussed elsewhere and away from tormenting Taff for a few seconds. That was all the time that the Welshman needed.

A heavy thud from the area in front of the fire prompted Stan to turn around. Taff was standing by the couch and Bull’s limp body was slowly sliding downwards, slipping from the cushions and onto the floor. With lightning speed, as Bull was busy watching Stan and Marty, Taff had stepped in and sucker-punched the huge man in the left side of his jaw. Instantly, Bull’s consciousness had been snatched away from him.