Zombie Dawn Exodus (13 page)

Nick started to ease back on the power, but made
sure he was still moving in case he needed to change direction in a
hurry.

“Yeah. I can see five of them, all in a column, it’s
like they never moved. I think the sixth tried to get away, it is a
bit farther back and stuck on the embankment,” said Nick.

The last vehicle was smoking badly, it must have
crashed or been attacked in some way.

Artur dropped back inside, looking excited.

“I can see them, look!” he cried, as he pointed
ahead and past the last vehicle. Nick squinted, trying to spot
whatever it was that Artur was pointing at. The motorway was full
of smoke from one of the trucks and it reduced visibility
considerably. He tried to look though the occasional break in the
smoke to see ahead but it was too thick. Slowing down some more he
became a little nervous, this could easily be an attempt to mask
some kind of additional ambush. It didn’t make sense though, the
zombies should have finished them off at the blockade, so why would
they expect them to come back?

Then, as quickly as the smoke arrived it blew to one
side and revealed the remnants of the convoy. They were already
moving past the first abandoned vehicle and Nick had a clear view
of the ambulance that had obviously tried to reverse out of danger.
A number of zombies were milling around in the middle of the road
and Nick did his best to avoid them. This wasn’t out of concern for
them per se, more specifically he wanted to reduce the possibility
of causing damage to the vehicle.

What was more interesting however, was what looked
like a very dangerous security van. It was scruffy and looked like
it had been modified in much the same way that their vehicles had
been. Nick eased off on the power, trying to reduce the sound of
the Land Rover as they moved past the rest of the convoy. He
glanced sideways, noting that the cars and trucks had been looted.
There was no sign of the passengers anywhere near the scene.
Looking back the van was in plain sight as were a group of five men
who were dragging a body out of the last car and also stripping
supplies from its roof. One of the men must have spotted them
though as they spun around and then ran for the van.

“Let’s go!” shouted Nick as he slammed his foot
down.

With a roar the Land Rover burst into life and raced
down the motorway. Some of the men near the ambulance pulled out
rifles and attempted to shoot at the approaching Land Rover.
Bullets struck the snow plough that was fitted to the front of the
Land Rover, the rounds chipped the thick steel but caused no
serious damage. Artur was already in position and from his vantage
point was able to put down heavy and accurate fire on them. His
first burst killed two of the men and forced the rest into
cover.

Nick kept his foot down till the last minute,
wanting to cover the distance in as little time as possible. When
he finally had to slow down he jammed down hard on the brakes. The
wheels locked up and with a loud screeching sound the heavy vehicle
slid to a stop, leaving two long rubber trails on the surface of
the motorway. The bus was a short distance behind them but that
didn’t stop Nick grabbing his shotgun and tumbling out of the
driver’s door and into cover behind the bonnet. More bullets
impacted on the reinforced bodywork of the Land Rover but none were
able to penetrate the armour. He leant around the corner and was
immediately forced back by gunfire from two men who were now hiding
behind the van.

Artur responded with another dozen rounds fired into
their direction. The loud hammering of the gun and the powerful
bullets forced the men to take cover. With them pinned down Nick
lurched out from cover and ran the short distance to the ambulance.
One man emerged from behind it brandishing a crossbow. Without
hesitating Nick pulled one trigger and then the other of the
shotgun. The first shot was a little wide and just caught the man
on the leg. As he stumbled and fell the second round hit him square
in the chest. The round tore through the flesh and into his upper
torso before he finally hit the ground gurgling blood.

Nick reached the side of the ambulance and ducked
down. More fire came down on him from the two men still left taking
cover behind the security van. He snapped the barrel and pulled out
the two shells. The heavy fire from the Bren was deafening but
Artur wasn’t able to hit the men behind the reinforced armour of
the van.

As Nick fed in another two shells he noticed the
smoke wasn’t actually coming from the vehicle but from burning
foliage behind it, presumably from the previous struggle when the
convoy had been hit. On the ground near him were the bodies of two
people, he recognised them as the workers from the ambulance. They
were neither trained nor equipped for combat, not that it mattered
now.

A loud bang came from the van and it was immediately
followed by a smoke trail as a flare launched up into the sky. With
a red flash it ignited, sending a signal out to whoever else was
waiting. Almost as though the flare was a cue the bus finally
arrived and from it spilled Jim and three more men. They spread
out, adding their own fire to that of Artur’s, onto the van. It was
now only a matter of time before they could move around the van and
attack them from behind. Before they were able to get close enough
though, the purpose of the flare became evident.

From above the embankment a group of motorcycles
raced over the peak and down towards the ongoing battle. One of
them was a large trike and carried three more men on the back, each
carrying an assortment of weapons.

Jim fired three shots with his Enfield rifle,
managing to take out the rider of the first bike. The bike tumbled
to the ground and forced the rest of the group to spread out and
move around the ambulance and van. As the bikers opened fire Nick
threw himself inside the ambulance and dropped to the floor. Holes
opened up all across the bodywork but luckily none of the bullets
struck him. He looked out through the open door and saw a bike
moving past with an outrider carrying what looked like a ball
swinging from a chain. He lifted up his gun and fired a single shot
into the centre of the bike. The shell knocked the passenger off
and onto the ground yet but didn’t take him out of the fight. More
fire hit the ambulance forcing Nick back into cover.

The heavy thud of the Bren gun continued and Nick
could only hope that Artur was having more success with the
shooting than he was. As he considered what to do a hand grabbed at
him from the front of the vehicle and started to pull him
backwards. He turned to face his assailant only to find two zombies
in the cab clawing at him. He fired the loaded barrel at the
closest of the two, splashing its brains across the inside of the
windscreen. The second reached out for his leg and in the struggle
Nick flailed and kicked to get back into the rear of the
ambulance.

The creature crawled over the body of the first
zombie and inched towards him. From his belt he pulled out a wicked
looking bowie knife and held it low and in front of him, waiting
for the attack. The zombie reached out, attempting to grab at his
arms. Nick easily evaded the first arm and slashed at the second,
causing little damage to the already dead flesh. It moved closer
and was now just a few feet away. Its mouth was contorted and its
flesh pale and filthy. Cuts and abrasions on the arms showed that
the creature gave no concern to its wellbeing and that it had
already been through a violent second life. As it lurched forwards
Nick thrust the dagger up into its throat and then pushed it up
hard into the thing’s brain. After months of fighting these
creatures Nick was all too aware of the strengths and weakness of
the undead. The blade pushed through the brain stem and then on
into the back of the brain. The creature spasmed and then collapsed
to the side, the dagger still embedded deeply its flesh. With a tug
Nick pulled out the blade and after wiping the gore off onto the
zombie’s rags he replaced it on his belt. He checked his pockets
before remembering he was out of shells, the rest of them were
inside the Land Rover.

The sound of the motorcycles had stopped though the
gun battle itself was still going on. Nick climbed into the cab of
the ambulance and was pleased to see the keys were still inside.
Turning the key the engine burst into life. From what he could see
in the mirrors there were two men crouching behind the ambulance
and still one man behind the van. Gunfire continued to come from
the bus and Land Rover so they were still in the fight. With no
ammunition left it seemed that the only choice he had was to run
for it or try and use the ambulance. He pushed down the accelerator
and then dumped the clutch, instantly applying power to the wheels.
With a screech it rushed backwards towards the van and exposed the
dismounted bikers to the fire from the Bren gun. He kept the power
on and smashed hard into the security van. The impact threw him
hard into the seat and jerked his head backwards throwing
everything into darkness.

CHAPTER
SEVEN

NEW SOUTH WALES, AUSTRALIA

9AM

The convoy was awake and ready to move. Normally most
of the survivors were unenthusiastic about waking up and moving on,
but after the disaster of the day before, everyone was keen to get
going and forget it. It could not have been worse timing for
morale, just after having their day off and fun games, which was
now wasted. The convoy continued onwards, but the tone was now
solemn and serious.

It was two hours before they reached their
destination, a safe open area, ten miles from the edge of the city.
This was how they operated, one RV and two trucks would raid for
supplies, whilst the rest waited ten miles away in a safe location.
This was not a case of a baggage train situation, but about risking
the minimal necessary people and assets, whilst always having
backup units to hand.

Every single vehicle in the convoy was armoured up
and carried fighters, because any vehicle or person who was not in
that category would not last in the Zombie Apocalypse. Bruce would
normally spend this travelling time relaxing, watching movies or
something similar, but not this time, his humour was lost. He sat
in the front passenger seat, starring out at the endless road for
the entirety of the journey, until finally called the convoy to a
stop at the safe zone.

“Get two of the trucks up here, we are going in on
this one,” said Bruce.

Connor looked at Bruce, a little surprised. Their
vehicle rarely went on raiding missions, as it was the lead
vehicle.

“You sure, boss?” asked Connor.

“Yes, I need something to do, and anyway, it’s
probably our turn by now,” said Bruce.

Connor nodded before radioing in for the two support
vehicles. Bruce went to the back of the vehicle to his bedroom. The
double bed en-suite room was absolute luxury in the nomadic
lifestyle they had become accustomed to. He pulled open the
wardrobe, revealing all of the equipment that he’d been wearing the
moment the Zompoc had started. The full harness that he’d used for
re-enactment was rather excessive for fighting zombies, the threats
being so different for what it was intended for. The mail
protection, often referred to as chainmail, was extremely useful
having large body coverage, flexibility and exceptional bite
protection. However the steel armour, intended to stop blunt trauma
strikes and thrusts with metal weapons, was simply unnecessary.

Bruce had quickly learnt to remove anything from his
equipment which was superfluous, but never liked swapping for other
items unless absolutely necessary as he was still sentimentally
attached to his gear. His re-enactment armour had been treasured
for years, a constant reminder of the fun he used to have.

He pulled on the stained and worn old gambeson,
tying it up at the front. Five minutes later he had the plate legs
and motorcycle gauntlets on, his mail shirt over the gambeson. He
pulled a set of military webbing on, a simple and effective set of
load bearing equipment that also carried a handgun and a machete.
He felt remarkably comfortable in his old equipment that had
faithfully served him through zombie combat.

The door of Road Hog flew open and Bruce stepped out
onto the dusty road, the two trucks he’d requested parked next to
him. He looked out towards the city, the old road signs still
standing firm before them, just dirty and more faded than they used
to be.

“Ok, listen up. The place we are hitting is a line
of shops on a main road into the city. There’s a medium size food
shop, an off licence and a few other smaller establishments.
There’s also a supermarket between here and there on the outskirts,
but it has likely been emptied long before now, but we won’t rule
it out completely,” said Bruce.

The group of survivors formed before him were
grinning, already dreaming of the delights that they were about to
find.

“It’s almost noon. This should be a two hour
operation, potentially up to three, depending on what we find and
how many places are worth stopping at. It could provide us with
enough rations to last a month, so let’s do it right,” said
Bruce.

“If it’s so full of good stuff why don’t we take
more vehicles and people with us, get more?” asked Connor.

“Because these are the rules, we never send more
than three vehicles into an unknown zone, we cannot afford to risk
so much. Now mount up, it’s time!” said Bruce.

A few moments later the vehicles were roaring off
towards the city. Heading towards a former area of dense population
was always an unnerving one. When the Zompoc began most people did
their utmost to flee the large population centres, those who didn’t
rarely survived. Therefore, deliberately heading back into such a
dangerous area was very risky. Sadly, these were the sort of risks
that were necessary now because anywhere safer had been raided long
before by other survivors still around.