The Undead Day Seventeen Read online

  The Undead

  Day Seventeen

  RR Haywood

  Copyright © R. R. Haywood 2015

  R. R. Haywood asserts his moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  All Rights reserved.

  Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters and events, unless those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead (or undead), is purely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Design, Cover and Illustration by Eddyart.

  The Story So Far

  The battle at the munitions factory was won but Lani was torn. Her body made weak by the incessant and relentless purge of the undead seeking to destroy Howie and all he loves.

  Lani was strong and her body fought the infection but the mind is a powerful thing. On hearing a static filled radio transmission between Howie and Marcy she believed he had betrayed her.

  Her mind broke and with it her body lost the ability to fight the infection.

  Howie and the team were imprisoned but escaped by an old tunnel leading from the fort.

  With the help of Marcy they fought their way back inside to rescue Lani only to find the fort held hostage and Lani on a killing spree.

  With tensions running at breaking point, Maddox and his crews watched while Howie tried to reason with the woman he thought he loved.

  Lani led Howie into the old armoury where the weapons and grenades were stored. They were together and alone.

  Base emotions took over, the fear of death and an act of sex with a woman holding a grenade.

  She pulled the pin. They fought and Howie only just escaped as the grenade detonated, taken off his feet and blacking out on the hard earth as the armoury exploded.

  The Undead Day Seventeen continues the story….

  One

  I’m out for a few seconds at most. The pressure wave of the detonation takes me off my feet and the overwhelming assault to my senses shuts my mind down as my eyes fill with flame and my head fills with noise. One single detonation as the first grenade goes off followed a split second by more explosions as the rest of the grenades follow, then rounds in the weapons and the flames scorch the night air as bullets ricochet off the solid walls of the fort.

  My eyes open and I gain full sight of the roaring devastation unfolding just metres from me. Lani inside and there is no way she could have survived that. Nothing could survive something like that. Not even Dave.

  I twist round on the ground to see the rest have dropped to the ground in fear and supplication. Almost as though in prayer to the gods of fire and destruction as the old armoury dissipates and blows apart. Rolling thunder claps boom for miles and I scrabble further back from the wall of heat beating at my face as scorching chunks of wall are turned into missiles that fly through the air.

  With my hands covering my head I glance round and up at the rest and spot a youth torn in half by a spinning fragment of debris that hits him with an explosion of blood and guts. More rain down on the heads and above the noise of the inferno I can hear screams of pain and agony as limbs are broken and skulls are fractured by the pressure wave sending the deadly lumps across the ground. At the far end the previously terrified and mute survivors are either up and running hell for leather in every direction or hugging the ground. The distance seems vast but the spinning chunks cross that ground seemingly with ease and more people are taken off their feet. I want to shout and roar for them to get down and stay down but the cacophony of sound threatens to burst my eardrums.

  It goes on and on with an ever increasing ferocity as the walls of the rooms to the old armoury are blown asunder in every direction.

  Tears pour down my face from shock, terror and pain of seeing Lani turn so viciously and the emotions burn through my heart and mind that everything we have done has been wrong. We were given a chance at redemption. Given immunity and a chance to make something good amidst the brutality of civilisation collapsing but look what we’ve done. A fort on an island with high walls that gave refuge but our own folly has destroyed it and brought more death. The incessant ability of mankind to cause pain and suffering and at the point I felt I could have changed something, done something or made it better I dropped my trousers and had sex instead.

  Base emotions of pleasure and lust. I couldn’t perform with Lani before because I was tired, worn out and exhausted but right there, in that room, I wanted to have sex as the pressure of the life and death struggle awoke something within me.

  Hate consumes me with a sudden ferocity that has me on my feet and stalking towards the crews of youths lying pissing themselves in fear on the ground. Missiles screech past me like comets with flaming tails but I pay no heed and every step has my blood boiling hotter in my veins. Bodies torn and shredded lie in my way and the air is filled with the agonised screams of the dying.

  ‘MOVE AWAY,’ I grab at the first child and launch her further away from the area of danger, ‘MOVE BACK…MOVE…’ I grab and heave at them, dragging the children further back.

  ‘DAVE…GET THESE KIDS MOVED.’

  ‘MOVE BACK NOW…’

  That voice booms louder than the raging fire and the explosions still detonating with percussive force that shakes the ground. Clarence lurches up shaking his head and grabbing a child in each hand he wades away to dump them and come back for more. Nick follows him a second later and grabbing a child he runs back then stops, stares at the broiling flames and looks over the expanse of ground to the survivors at the far side. With Lilly on his mind he looks to me and finds me waving to go and he runs flat out as heedless as I from the chunks of rock and brick splattering the ground.

  ‘BLOWERS…COOKEY…GO WITH NICK.’

  They’re up and running as Nick leaps a flaming chunk that lands feet in front of his path. His arm waving at the survivors to move up the vehicle ramp and away from the missiles. To stay where they are is a lottery of death as the burning fragments work like shotgun pellets that take grown men and women off their feet.

  Roy is up and working, dragging screaming children away. Paula too. Marcy clutching a little girl and shielding her with her body as a chunk of wall scorches right past them. Dave doesn’t grab anyone but his voice does the work of five of us put together. Leaning low he bellows with such power that whole groups of kids are sent scuttling away from him.

  I’m taken from my feet with a rugby tackle to the legs and I land hard with the air ripped from my lungs. Maddox on top of me and the chunk of wall sailing over our heads misses us by inches. His face is a mask of pure energy, both terrified and focussed with the job at hand. With the missile passed he rolls off and surges back to his feet as agile as a cat and grabs my wrist to pull me up. The second my feet gain the ground he’s off and running to usher, badger, shepherd and push his children away from the immediate vicinity.

  Several are dead or dying with bodies inflicted with varying degrees of injuries. The one I saw being torn in half is spread across a distance of several metres and so badly mangled there’s no way of knowing if it was a boy or a girl. More scream and clutch at broken arms or legs pulverised by heavy fragments. Others lie still and seemingly asleep and there’s no way of knowing if they’re dead or unconscious.

  With the majority of the youths now away and safe we set to work running from body to body. Fingers to necks and ears to che
sts trying to detect heartbeats and pulses but the noise is so bad and the vibrations of the fire so harsh we can’t tell anything. I scoop a black clad boy up with blood running free from his ears and run towards the medical bay with him draped in my arms. He feels so light and frail. Just a small child with thin limbs and pain etched on his face. He doesn't cry out or say anything but stares at me with wide eyes filled with terror.

  ‘DOCTORS…DOCTORS…’ I boot the door open, run in and lay the child on the first bed as the four doctors run from the back. Two of them with fresh cuts and bruises to their faces that can only have come from Lani. ‘More coming in,’ I rush back out and almost collide with Clarence coming through the entrance carrying a young girl with a mangled right leg. Roy behind him, Paula behind Roy and there are still more to come.

  As I get out I spot Nick and Blowers shouting for Clarence as they struggle to carry a heavy man between them. Clarence runs out and I grab his thick arm and wave at the lads. He nods and runs over to scoop the screaming man from them then runs back as though he is carrying a child.

  ‘FIRE.’

  The word strike a chord. Not an order to open fire but a warning and I spin to see Dave pointing to the tents and hastily erected structures put up by the survivors now flaming from the scorching hot fragments of grenade metal and burning rock landing amongst them. Bone dry from the hot sun and they go up with a whumph as the hungry flames find new fuel to eat.

  I can’t match Dave’s voice to shout and anything uttered by me will be swallowed by the incredible noise already in the fort. I sprint towards the fire knowing the new armoury is only protected by double wooden doors set metres away from the edge of the tents and structures. If those doors go then the inside goes and we’ll be missing a whole lot more than one section of wall. I know there are water pipes set in the wall with hoses attached used for everything from washing to drinking. The heat is immense. From my right where the old armoury is and my left from the new fire spreading at an alarming rate.

  I get to the wall and follow it along to the first hose with my hand shielding my face from the wall of super-hot air wafting at me. Grimacing I clutch at the spokes of the tap and twist it hard until the length of thick rubber stiffens with the fast flow of water sent charging through.

  Hand over hand I pull the hose to me until the end comes into my hands. I turn it round and quickly blast myself with cooling water with my eyes screwed shut then I drag it over and lay the end so the spray is aimed towards the first row of tents.

  I run along the wall towards the rear gate and the next hose I know is set there and suddenly the fort feels so huge and it takes seconds to run the distance. The fire is closer here and the heat steams to dry the water I sprayed down my body. The spokes are turned, the hose stiffens and I get the end angled towards the fire. The flames are huge. Well over my head height and they roar with a noise that makes me think it’s a living creature fighting to stay alive.

  These tents have to be moved. If they catch alight these two hoses will do nothing to stop the flames getting to the wooden doors of the new armoury. With the hose held in front like a sword I dive forward and stay low from the raging heat threatening to sear my skin. Grabbing pegs I try and heave them free from the rock hard ground but they’ve been beaten down with hammers and I lack the strength to pull them out. I grab the material and try to rip it away but the ropes are strong and refuse to yield from their grip on the pegs.

  I move back from the fire and look round frantic to find something as Dave runs towards me.

  ‘KNIFE…CUT THE ROPES…’

  He nods and a split second later a blade appears in his hand. With his lightning speed he surges along the row flicking at the ropes and lines that snap as the tension is cut. Tents fall inwards sagging from the lack of support.

  I grab the first one and start ripping it up and away from the ground and heave it towards the fire. Someone at my side working with me and I catch the swish of long hair that is suddenly gripped, twisted and tied back from Marcy’s face.

  ‘GET THE HOSE,’ I go for the next tent while she darts back and aims the spray towards the flames. ‘ON ME,’ I drop and wait for the cooling water to rush over my skin then I’m up and grabbing at the flimsy material to rip it from the ground to be thrown at the flames. Let them be burnt now in a controlled way rather than burnt so close to the doors.

  Marcy runs sideways to grab the second hose and holding both she showers me and Dave who passes me a knife to cut the lines and tear the material apart. Soaked but burning hot we work with faces flushed red. This is hell. Fire and fumes. Noises of explosions. People screaming. Dead bodies. Blood and innards strewn everywhere. We died when the infection started and this is where we have been sent for nothing man made can be this terrible and frightening.

  The lads sprint into the fray and within a split second have processed the work so desperately needed to be done. Marcy sprays them and they set to work. Hands are singed and we cry out at the flames getting closer and closer like a monster that grows higher with every passing second.

  I catch glimpse of a body within the flames. Someone who didn’t move fast enough or cowered down to hide from the devastation with a flawed instinct that the walls of the flimsy tent would protect them. Eaten by fire and I pray they suffocated quickly as the flames ate the oxygen from around them. My team come one by one. Out of breath and already exhausted from lack of sleep and constant motion but they dive in to keep the flames from the wooden doors but they grow bigger and hungrier and edge closer to prove our pathetic efforts are in vain.

  Nick runs behind Marcy and grabs the hose in his hands then works back to follow it to the wall. He finds the tap and drops to a crouch as he feels along the pipe fixed to the wall and traces it back to the doors of the new armoury. I catch his train his thought and realise the pipe runs over the top of the doors. He turns and I nod at him, ‘DO IT…’

  He shows me an open handed gesture, showing that he’s got nothing to sever it with.

  ‘CLARENCE…’

  ‘HERE,’ he runs towards me with his bald head shining red from the heat. I and the big man turns to see Nick pointing frantically at the pipe above the doors. A confused look crosses Clarence face until he traces the pipe down to the tap then along the hose to Marcy still spraying the lads at work. The realisation hits and he runs to Nick and reaches up to grab the pipe above the door with two hands. He pauses and bunches his muscles before the explosion of power wrenches the pipe free from the fixings that ping the brackets off into the air. Another pause and this time he roars as he pulls the pipe down and snaps it clean in half with a strength that still makes my mouth drop open.

  That he can snap a pipe is one thing but that pipe is feeding two hoses that are both spraying water with high pressure. As that flow is broken so the water comes powering from the fractured pipe with double the flow that came from one hose. A jet of water like that from a fire hose and it gushes metres before it sails down into the flames.

  Marcy stares dumbly at the hoses and turns with a worried look before noticing the broken pipe being held and angled by Clarence as he directs the spray towards the edge of the fire.

  ‘THE GROUND,’ Nick shouts and waves at the ground immediately in front of us. Clarence dips the pipe and instantly the water is sluicing on the hard compacted earth. Puddles form and streams are created as we make a desperate bid to stop the flames getting any closer. They do get closer and for a few charged minutes we watch the battle play out as the flames lap at the water that evaporates in clouds of steam. The sustained flow replaces that taken and for a while it could go either way. The fire roars with fury at being denied a path and for the final few seconds we’re all beaten back and making ready to flee with the belief the fire will get the doors.

  Relief sags every single one of us on the spot when the flames dwindle to a less terrifying blaze and I spot Marcy still clutching the inert hoses and staring with her mouth hanging open and the fire casting an orange glow on he
r reddened features. It starts raining and the ground spatters with a million droplets of water. Every one of us looks up into the clear sky and then round to see Clarence holding the pipe straight up so the water shoots high to spread and fall back down. I step forward and stand quietly in the deluge soaking through my clothes and plastering my hair to my scalp. It’s hot right here and the water is cool. The contrast sends shivers down my spine and I know there is a million things I should be doing but I don’t want to move. A sensation of movement and I look to see I’m not the only one doing it. Cookey, Blowers, Paula, Nick. All of us are there within that false rain and I’m taken back to Tower Bridge in London when we stopped to face Darren. It rained then and the liquid seemed to cleanse us somehow. Christ, it feels like months ago, years even. When did that happen?

  ‘When were we at Tower Bridge?’ I ask out loud.

  ‘Sixth day,’ someone answers, maybe Blowers, ‘I was thinking the same thing.’

  ‘What we doing with that?’ Clarence asks from next to me. I open my eyes and slowly turn to see he’s wedged the pipe in place to keep the water spraying up.

  ‘With what?’ I reply.

  ‘With the pipe? It’ll keep spraying.’

  ‘There’ll be a shut off valve somewhere,’ Nick says.

  ‘Let it run for a bit,’ I say with a nod to the flames. I look round like a mother hen counting my brood, ‘where’s Roy?’

  ‘Helping the doctors,’ Paula says.

  ‘And Reginald?’

  ‘Cowering with the children,’ Marcy says and finally releases her grip on the hoses.

  ‘Is that safe?’ I ask her.

  ‘Reggie?’ She reaches up and sweeps her soaking wet hair back from her forehead so it lies flat and glistening down her back, ‘he wouldn’t hurt a fly.’