The Undead Day Sixteen Part Two Page 3

  Three

  ‘Almost there,’ Nick focuses on the road as he feels the sway of the laden van through the frame as he steers round the debris on the road.

  ‘Dave, did you know Mr Howie would be okay?’

  Dave doesn't answer but watches out the front windscreen, his hands resting in his lap.

  ‘I kinda had an idea he would be,’ Nick glances across, ‘like…fuck I don’t know…’ Nick shakes his head, ‘I don’t know how but…’

  Talking to Dave is hard at the best of times but when he stays so silent it makes it near on impossible. Nick sighs and navigates the vehicle through the narrow roads that feed towards the bay.

  A journey of silence since Clarence radioed ahead. Nick driving. Dave inert.

  ‘You are a good soldier, Nicholas,’ Dave says without any preamble, ‘I am proud of you.’

  The tears prickle Nick’s eyes the second the words hit his ears. A deep crimson blush spreads across his face at the overwhelming compliment paid by the most dangerous man any of them have ever known.

  He doesn't know what to say or how to respond. He thinks of something to respond with, to say thank-you would sound fake. To say anything else would be flippant.

  ‘You survived in that house,’ Dave says, ‘you showed courage and fortitude in the face of an enemy far greater in number than you.’

  ‘Jesus, Dave.’ Nick whispers.

  ‘That is all,’ Dave nods with a signal that the conversation is over.

  ‘Okay,’ Nick coughs and widens his eyes while shaking his head, ‘thanks.’

  ‘And you did not falter when Mr Howie went down.’

  Fucking hell! Nick glances across with the realisation that he is having an actual conversation with Dave.

  ‘Do not falter,’ Dave says.

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘I won’t is not a good enough response. You will not falter because you will not falter. It is fact and not an attempt at something.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘We cannot falter,’ Dave says quietly in a tone Nick has never heard before, ‘stop the vehicle.’

  Nick starts at seeing the beach right ahead of them. With trembling hands he steers the van onto the sand and brings it to a stop as Dave alights with fluid movements.

  ‘YOU,’ Dave bellows across the beach towards the guard crew stationed there, ‘WE NEED BOATS NOW…MAKE IT HAPPEN…’

  ‘Fuck me,’ Nick says to himself, ‘did that just happen?’ He watches with the eyes of a man ever learning as Dave dominates the ground around him. Orders shouted and complied with instantly. There is no room for error with Dave. Simply no question of not doing what he says.

  Nick rubs his face and yawns. The exhaustion evident in every movement from his bone weary body. Without thinking he tugs his packet of cigarettes out from his torn and bloodied pocket. The filter touches his lips, the hands find a lighter and he inhales at the same second as realising he is sitting in a van full of live ammunition, grenades and God knows whatever else was shoved in.

  ‘Sorry, Dave,’ the words spill out of his mouth as fast he scrambles from the van to pace away as though expecting it to combust instantly.

  ‘Smoking is unlikely to ignite rounds,’ Dave looks back, ‘however, the embers from your cigarette could set fire to other flammable material that in turn could cause a fire which…’

  ‘I get it,’ Nick waves then stops in horror, ‘sorry,’ he winces. Shit, he just cut Dave off mid speech. The small man stares hard for a second and seems to take in the sorry state of the young man before looking away.

  ‘Rest now,’ he says simply, ‘take fluids and rest.’

  ‘Fuck,’ Nick sinks down onto the soft sand and lets his over-tired mind ease down with the frantic thinking. He smokes and blinks heavily. He smokes and stares without looking. His hands are encrusted from the battle. Blood and gore spattered all over his clothing and up his bare arms.

  He looks down at his own sorry state and winces but carries on smoking. Boats are rushed towards the beach from the fort. Voices calling. Radio transmissions and Nick watches as Dave simply takes a radio from a youth and bellows an order into it before handing it back and knows he will never be as competent as Dave.

  ‘Shit,’ on his feet and he crosses the short space of ground to the van, dragging his assault rifle out he racks the bolt back and has the weapon up and aimed as he about turns and starts pacing towards the oncoming group heading across beach, ‘STAND STILL,’ Nick roars, ‘STAND STILL NOW…’

  As one the group freeze. As one the guard crew spin with weapons being raised and made ready.

  ‘YOU,’ Nick points off to the guard crew, ‘FAN OUT AND COVER ME…’

  ‘ON YOU,’ Darius shouts back.

  ‘SHOW ME YOUR HANDS,’ Nick paces towards the group with long strides of his legs while the guard crew fans out. Dave watches without reaction or movement.

  Arms shoot into the air with an instant compliance of the orders given, ‘GOOD…STAY STILL….ARE ANY OF YOU BITTEN OR SCRATCHED?’

  ‘NO,’ the man at the head shouts back quickly, ‘we’re survivors…’

  ‘Okay…okay,’ Nick lowers his voice but keeps the weapon raised, ‘this is the fort and you will be safe here…but you must remain still so you can be checked…do you understand?’

  Nods come back at him. Faces fixed on the young man that dominates the scene.

  ‘You are safe,’ Nick repeats, ‘but you are safe because we have procedures…stay still and let me check your eyes…that’s it…everyone look at me so I can see your eyes…’ He moves to the front of the group and while keeping the weapon raised and ready he peers from face to face.

  ‘Good, you two go forward,’ he motions to the first clear faces, ‘then you…and you…that’s good…and you, Sir….and you Madam…take the child with you I can see her eyes from here…okay…good…DARIUS?’

  ‘HERE.’

  ‘ALL CLEAR.’

  ‘GOT IT.’

  Nick lowers the weapon and smiles sheepishly at the terrified group huddled together, ‘sorry about that,’ he shrugs, ‘er…everyone okay?’

  ‘Jesus mate,’ one the men says with a gasp, ‘what happened to you?’

  ‘Me?’ Nick looks down and blanches at the state of his clothes, ‘oh yeah…we had a hard night.’

  ‘Hard night?’ The man whimpers, ‘doing what?’

  ‘Killing zombies,’ Nick shrugs again as he lights another cigarette.

  ‘Are you with Mr Howie?’ Someone asks.

  ‘Hmmm? Yeah, I’m Nick, that’s Dave,’ he points off to the small man watching him from his original position.

  ‘Nick and Dave!’

  ‘Where’s Clarence?’

  ‘What about the Chinese girl?’

  ‘Thai,’ Nick says, ‘she’s from Thailand not China…er…Mr Howie is just coming now but…but one of our team got hurt so we’re using these boats first…you’ll have to hang on for a bit.’

  ‘Er,’ one of them men steps forward, ‘I got passed a message.’

  ‘Do what?’ Nick asks.

  ‘Marcy, she said to tell Mr Howie or one of his team…’

  ‘Marcy? Where?’

  ‘Back there,’ the man points back to the houses on the edge of the bay, ‘she’s there with a man…she said to tell you that.’

  ‘A man? What did he look like?’

  ‘Small bloke…er…glasses and a tie…’

  ‘Reggie,’ Nick mutters and stares hard at the houses, ‘okay, listen…do not tell anyone else. You hear me?’

  ‘Yeah sure.’

  ‘Cheers,’ Nick walks off with a backward glance at the houses as the Saxon’s engine roars into the vicinity.

  ‘Dave,’ he rushes over as Dave turns to watch the incoming army personnel carrier, ‘that bloke just said Marcy is up there.’

  ‘Where?’ He turns to look at Nick’s outstretched arm and up to the houses on the edge of the beach.

  ‘Reggie is with her, or at least th
e bloke said there was a man with her with glasses and a tie….she told him to tell us.’

  ‘Okay,’ Dave nods once as the Saxon slews to a halt. Doors burst open as Howie and the others burst into activity.

  ‘BOATS?’ Howie shouts.

  ‘READY,’ Dave replies.

  ‘How is she?’ Nick runs round the back to look inside the Saxon and Roy straddled across Lani doing chest compressions, ‘oh fuck…’

  ‘We need a stretcher,’ Blowers jumps down, ‘Roy’s got to keep the compressions going while we move her…Nick…Nick we need a stretcher.’

  ‘Fucking hell,’ Nick drags his eyes from the awful sight of Lani being worked on by Roy and Paula, ‘stretcher…got it,’ he nods and runs down the beach to the boats waiting in the shallows.

  He wades in, heading to the closest boat and grips the edge to peer in, ‘CLARENCE,’ he turns to shout, ‘get this boat up on the beach,’ he orders the youth waiting by the outboard at the back.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Fuck’s sake, lift the prop up…lift it…pull the thing towards you…CLARENCE…’

  ‘What?’ The big man runs down the beach.

  ‘The middle section, we can make a stretcher.’

  ‘Got it,’ they heave the boat until it grinds on the beach. Clarence levers himself over the edge and shuffles over to stand straddling the thick board of the middle seating running width ways across the boat. He takes a deep breath, pauses then heaves with an explosion of force that tears the plank free from the marine screws holding it in place.

  ‘Here,’ Nick leans in to grasp the end, pulls it closer then starts running back up the beach towards the Saxon.

  ‘Any good?’ Nick gets to the rear panting from the exertion.

  ‘Lie it flat,’ Howie appears at his side, ‘Roy, we’ve got a stretcher…’

  ‘She’s breathing on her own again,’ Roy jumps clear and moves up to push his hands under Lani’s armpits, ‘quickly now…someone grab her legs...we’ve got to be quick but gentle.’

  Cookey gets in and on cue from Roy lifts Lani’s legs as Roy eases her upper body clear. Over the stacked ammunition boxes they pass the unconscious woman out to the gentle waiting hands that lower her softly onto the board.

  ‘Everyone,’ Howie orders, ‘she’s not strapped in so we move steady but quick…’

  The board lifts with ease from the hands all jumping in. Howie at the head while Roy stays close to Lani’s side monitoring her pulse and breathing.

  ‘Down!’ He orders at failing to find a pulse.

  ‘Onto the boat, mate,’ Howie counters the order, ‘first one is here…easy now…’

  Clarence in the boat and he leans forward to grasp the offered plank as they work between them to get Lani down. Roy vaults the side to gain her side and once again check for pulse and breathing. Without a word uttered he starts work, fingers interlinked palm to back of hand and the first compression is given.

  Clarence scrabbles over the edge, grips the front of the boat and pushes it clear of the beach and back into the water.

  ‘Darius,’ Howie climbs into the boat as the youth gets the engine going, ‘we go first, then the ammunition then the people after that.’

  ‘Got it,’ Darius shouts back.

  ‘And get the doctors waiting for us.’

  ‘Done it.’

  The team pile into boats that get swiftly turned round and pointed back to the fort, each one opens up with whatever horse power the engine can generate as they glide through the water.

  Roy works steady, never ceasing as he pushes down, pauses, pushes down, pauses and counts fifteen before nodding at Paula to give two breaths.

  The lads watch quietly and no one notices that Jagger and Mo Mo have chosen to stay with them in the boats rather than re-join their old mates on the guard crews.

  ‘We need faster boats,’ Cookey says through gritted teeth in the second boat, ‘this thing flat out?’

  ‘Yeah,’ the boy holding the rudder arm nods but dares not say anything else. The sight of these people is something else. Each one of them covered in gore, blood and filth. Hard eyes and the way they move and talk. Like a unit of professional soldiers. Even the smiling Cookey looks like something from a movie with his blond hair plastered to his head and covered in cuts, bruises and fresh bite mark to his shoulder exposed by the torn fabric of his clothes.

  They still grip weapons as though only resting from the battle. They look round constantly, always scanning, always checking the positions of the others. Looks pass between them and in those fleeting glances are messages and nuances of meaning that have built up over long days and nights of depending on the others for life.

  ‘Doctors,’ Nick nods ahead to the white lab coat wearing figures waiting to receive on the small beach in front of the fort.

  ‘Did Darius tell them we need a defib waiting?’ Blowers ask the youth.

  ‘I dunno.’

  ‘Dave, we need a defib,’ Blowers shouts over the water, ‘can they hear you from here?’

  Dave sits in the exact middle of the third boat, his hands gripping the plinth beneath his lap. He nods, draws breath and shouts.

  ‘DEFIB NEEDED.’

  ‘Fuck,’ Cookey says under his breath, ‘they bloody heard him though.’

  A doctor lifts an arm and runs back into the fort as the boats glide so slowly across the expanse of water before finally hitting the shelving beach.

  The lads jump out and wade over to the first boat, assault rifles pushed back on the straps to rest across their backs.

  Orders are not needed as the plank is lifted and moved swiftly over the edge of the boat and into the hands of the waiting medics.

  ‘Give us room,’ Doctor Andrew Stone orders calmly as Anne Carlton runs onto the beach carrying a small plastic case.

  ‘Tell me what happened please,’ Andrew asks without looking up at the group.

  ‘She was bitten, cut and…see the wounds…we dressed them,’ Roy stands with hands on hips.

  ‘Much blood lost?’ Andrew asks.

  ‘Not really…maybe at first but the wounds have clotted really fast…do you know she was immune?’

  ‘This is Lani right?’ Andrew says.

  ‘Yes but her wounds are already healing faster than they should…she might be a carrier…’ Roy says.

  ‘Face masks,’ Andrew and the other doctors move back to quickly tug the masks up. They pull plastic safety glasses from deep pockets and quickly check their gloves are intact.

  ‘No pulse, no breathing,’ Doctor Franklin reports, ‘are we charged?’

  ‘Wait,’ Andrew opens the case and pulls two wires free. He moves quickly as he first fixes two self-adhesive patches to Lani’s chest. He plugs the wires into the patches and checks the front of the machine.

  ‘Clear?’

  ‘Clear,’ Lisa and Anne lean away as Andrew pushes a button on the machine. Lani jolts with a sudden pulse of electricity passing through her body.

  Everyone stands together, watching and waiting and feeling useless as the doctors check for vitals and speak to each other in hushed tones. Once again Andrew presses the big red button on the machine that delivers a shock to Lani’s body.

  ‘Pulse…’ Andrew relays with a hand outstretched in warning to the others. All three watch the screen on the front, ‘holding…it’s holding…weak but…’

  ‘We should get her inside,’ Doctor Franklin turns to the waiting group, ‘carry the stretcher straight into the hospital bay.’

  With the defib still attached monitoring Lani’s heart rate the adhoc stretcher is once again gripped, lifted and carried by people almost too tired to walk but refusing to yield to the exhaustion sapping at their limbs.

  Through the outer door and across the gap to gain the inside of the fort. Survivors stare in silence at the gruesome sight of the battle weary men and Paula racing while taking the greatest of care of their own. Every one of them a sight that tells those watching survivors they have freedom this day b
ecause of the actions of this small group.

  Men and women grip the hands of their children or avert their eyes because the sight of the young team tells them what they’ve been through. The cuts and bruises, the bite marks and blades still encrusted with blood. The hoarse voices that speak of constant yelling and shouting. The heavy way they move while laden down with weapons, ammunition, pistols, axes and water bottles.

  The doctors run ahead clearing the way. Doctor Heathcliff Stone already having made a bed free for the incoming casualty.

  ‘Hold it,’ Lisa Franklin makes the team hold the stretcher next to the bed so Clarence can lift her easily from the plank to the bed. Once the transfer is made so the team immediately and instantly become redundant. Not needed. Not required. In the way.

  Still they hover and wait. Desperate to stay together and watch as if moving away will break the bond and cause the death of Lani.

  The A&E nurse rushes forward with a pair of scissors to cut away Lani’s clothing. The doctors bustle with calm efficiency remembered from the years of their lives spent in casualty departments.

  Hospital machinery run by thirsty generators run by valuable diesel are plugged in and connected to the Thai girl.

  ‘You need to go,’ Heathcliff asserts his seniority by ushering the team away, ‘being here is no good…let us work.’

  ‘But,’ Cookey is the first to give voice as he stares desperately at Lani.

  ‘No buts, please…’ Heathcliff spreads his hands, ‘we are the experts here and we need the space to work without being watched…especially by armed men…’

  ‘And you’re all covered in shit,’ Lisa Franklin says without turning, ‘get out of here now before you infect someone else…I want those clothes incinerated and you lot scrubbed with anti-bacterial cleanser…’

  Howie nods, his dark eyes brooding as he glances round at the state of the people around him.

  ‘Howie, what happened?’ Maddox strides into the hospital bay with Lenski and Lilly hot on his heels. Lilly gasps at the sight and rushes to Nick.

  ‘Lani got hurt,’ Howie says quietly, ‘we were overwhelmed.’

  ‘Everyone else okay?’

  ‘Yeah…’ Howie nods.

  ‘Get out of my hospital!’ Lisa snaps.