Zombie Castle Series (Book 3): ZC Three Read online

  The procedure to exit the trailer, on the other hand, needed more work and thought to get it right.

  The rear door swung open easily enough and the ramp could be deployed with not much effort. It was when they walked down the ramp, potential problems became obvious. The angle and narrowness of the ramp made walking down it difficult, especially when encumbered with the full weight of their armour. It was hard to swing their weapons or protect each other with their shields until they reached the ground, which meant the first few down would be vulnerable.

  When they were clear of the ramp, they could form their defensive wall and fight effectively. With practice this could be done reasonably quickly, and the ramp raised, and trailer door shut, protecting the occupants inside. If the ramp was made wider, it would become too heavy to move quickly and potentially expose the ones left in the trailer to danger.

  No easy solution came to mind, apart from not exiting the vehicle at all when there were too many zombies. So we decided to adhere to that policy.

  Anyway, from experience, we thought we probably had enough firepower to keep any at bay, without the need to step down from the vehicles and we could always keep moving to find a safer place to stop, if need be.

  The light machine guns were mounted on brackets Simon and Shawn had devised for the trailer and much to my jealousy, also for his Land Rover.

  It now looked even better.

  From their fixed positions, they could lay down an accurate and deadly amount of firepower. The Marines assured us that they alone should be enough to keep us safe, without even considering all the other weapons we had.

  The bulk of the work was done, and finding myself as a loose end, I went to find Becky. I wanted to spend some time together, even if it was only a few moments.

  Taking her hand, we walked away from the others and sat on a bench in the shade of a tree.

  We were far enough away to get some privacy, but still able to view most of the churchyard and all the activity still going on.

  The children had stopped running around and were all sitting together under the shade of another tree, laughing and talking as if they didn’t have a care in the world.

  Laying our weapons aside, but still within easy reach, I held out my arm and she leant against my chest and we silently hugged for a few minutes, both just taking in what was going on around us.

  “This all still seems so unreal,” Becky said quietly, “Occasionally I’ve found myself thinking that this is all a dream and soon I’ll wake up in our caravan at St Agnes and we’ll head off to the beach again. But that life, normal life, now seems so far away and distant that it can’t be a dream. What we’ve done and experienced over…” She stopped and thought for a while.

  “How long has it been now, Tom? A week now? I can’t even remember. It’s unbelievable, but what we’re doing now seems normal. Two weeks ago, I was pushing a shopping trolley around a supermarket, rushing so I could make it to the gym class before picking up the kids from school. And now, I’m sitting on a bench in a churchyard watching over my kids, ready to grab a gun and without hesitation shoot in the head what was once a normal person, just like you and me, just so my children can live to see another day. Tell me I’m dreaming, Tom, please.

  “I used to get annoyed at other Moms on the school run and their pathetic attempts to drive their stupidly big cars, wishing sometimes I had a gun so I could wreak my revenge. And now, you know what? I have a gun and would probably, without a second thought, use it on them, just because they deserve it. Is that wrong?”

  I chuckled.

  “And you used to moan at me and my road rage. Just be thankful that school runs are a thing of the past, so you won’t have to.”

  She snuggled in closer.

  “I don’t think you could write this story. Look at what we’ve done, who we’ve met and what we’ve achieved. It just doesn’t seem believable. If you hadn’t got us out of that campsite, and at the time I went along with it even I thought you were having some sort of breakdown, we would be dead along with millions of others. You knew what to do.”

  She was quiet for a few minutes.

  “I haven’t said thank you yet. Thank you, Tom, for saving us. I now think we stand a chance to survive and make whatever life we can out of all the chaos that’s happened.”

  A few more minutes of silence and quiet understanding passed between us.

  I looked across the churchyard and all the activity still going on.

  Geoff, Alex and Jamie were holding crossbow instruction for anyone who wanted a go, using a large oak tree as a target. The value of those weapons hadn’t been fully explored, with everything else going on. I’d fought beside Shawn as he’d used his when we thought we were done for at the farm on the moors and it seemed like an age ago now. Up to a certain range, the crossbows were effective and silent killers and all his friends had brought a few each with them and a large supply of bolts, so there were a lot to go around.

  Shawn and Jim were still tinkering with the vehicles, all the time adding to the strength and effectiveness of them.

  Shane and Steve the Marine had now taken Stanley, Eddie and Jim, and Bob’s children Charlie, Bertie and Josh and Victoria’s son, also called Josh, to the church wall and had begun to teach them how to use the .22 rimfire rifles.

  While they’d slept last night, we’d agreed it would be a good idea to start their training as soon as possible. The .22 rimfire rifles were amongst the rifles we’d collected from Shane’s gun shop and with their low recoil, they were a great introductory gun to train them on, and a proven zombie killer after using the one I’d got from the farm to great effect. Before I had ‘upgraded’ to a more powerful military grade weapon.

  Shane and Steve had volunteered to instruct them. The other parents and I agreed that having a non-family member and relative stranger teaching them would be a good idea and make them concentrate more.

  I watched, and they were all listening intently and being as grown up as possible. Not one of them wanted the warnings given to come true, and not be allowed to fire them if they messed about and couldn’t be trusted.

  “Becky, darling. I know there’s nothing we can do about it, but do we need to worry about the children? Most of them have already killed their fair share of zombies with the spears and all of them have witnessed sights that wouldn’t be allowed in most horror movies. It must be having a deep and profound effect on all of us, so what will it be doing to the children? They’re killers now. The rules of the world have changed. It’s now acceptable to kill. I’m sure a psychologist will have long and fancy words for it, but I just don’t want it to fuck them up, that’s all. One day some sort of normality may return, and they’ll need to be able to adjust.”

  We both watched as the children, under close supervision, began to fire the guns, aiming at the various cars lying abandoned around the village green. Their excitement at hitting something they were aiming at was evident from where we sat.

  The skills they were being taught were not for shooting for fun at targets or tin cans, the things children would usually practise with when first learning to shoot. But rather to end the existence of something that had once lived, but which now wanted to attack any of us to satisfy its hunger for human flesh; and all to keep the virus alive and spreading.

  “Well, Tom,” Becky said with a sigh, “all we can do is keep a close eye on them and keep giving them the chance, when we can, to just be children. To run around and play and forget the world around them.

  And when do you really think this will be over? We need to reach this castle we’re all hoping will provide the sanctuary it promises, and then take it from there. We don’t know how long those things will keep going. Will they rot and fall apart eventually, or will they go on forever? There are millions out there all over the country. We can’t kill them all, just the ones that are threatening us. We could be stuck behind the walls of Warwick Castle for a long time.”

  “Who knows is the answer to that.
All we can do is take each day as it comes and keep going. If all goes well, we might even reach Warwick tomorrow, but I doubt it. We’ve got to try and find Louise’s family near Cheltenham and then Steve’s in Worcester first, and who knows how long that will take? We’ll plan the route and all the alternatives tonight, but I imagine it’ll be slow going. Five vehicles won’t travel as fast as two, and we’re restricted by the speed the tractor can go. Two days at best is my guess.”

  I looked at the vehicles. Shawn and Jim were still working on them, using the time to add more fixings or extra bits on here and there. They looked great. Yes, they were not as neat as they could have been if they’d had the benefit of a machine shop and all the specialist equipment it contained.

  What we’d previously done had been tried and tested and was known to work. Using that experience, they knew what was needed and given the limited time and proper materials, they’d worked wonders.

  They would all protect the occupants and each vehicle would have its own use. The bus and the van would transport most of our equipment and people. The tractor with its weight and power should be able to clear blockages and cleave through zombies. The trailer it towed provided an impregnable fortress and an excellent fighting platform. The Volvo and Land Rover, both heavily protected and modified, could go wherever they were needed; to scout ahead or be agile enough to thin out the undead and provide protection and support for the other vehicles.

  A lot of the materials we had got from the farmers’ supplies shop remained unused. We decided to reload the most useful items onto the trailer we’d already got, and hitch it up again to Simon’s Defender. If we got into any trouble or needed it, it could easily be unhitched and left behind or reattached after we’d finished whatever we were doing.

  We had the radios to communicate with each other to coordinate on the move. Shawn had already said he would keep a lookout for vehicles with citizen band (CB) radios fitted, as they would make communication easier and extend the range. Even with the advent of mobile phones making them obsolete, he knew some truckers still preferred to use them, so he was confident that given time he would find enough for us all.

  We both stood up to join the others, refreshed by the normality of having the chance to sit down and spend time together.

  Everyone else was also finishing their various tasks. The final items were being loaded onto the vehicles, and the children were finishing off cleaning the guns they’d been using. One by one as jobs were completed, the group slowly drifted into church, attracted by the delicious smells of cooking food wafting out of the door.

  Forty-three people and a dog that had now woken up and looked hungry gathered in the church for their last night.

  Chapter nine

  We waited patiently in our vehicles as the Vicar bustled around, carrying the last few items he wanted to save from the church to the bus. There were no items of real value, but he told us that that if he was going to continue to look after our spiritual wellbeing, he needed the tools of his trade with him.

  Once the last vehicle had left the churchyard, we pushed the barrier back into place and made sure everything was secure. As with the farm on the moors, it had provided us with safe shelter and it would for any others that might come across it if we left it secured. A sign was nailed to the door explaining who we were, where we had come from and where we eventually intended to reach.

  We left a small cache of supplies as a gift.

  Forming the convoy, everyone stood at their allocated positions and watched as the church fell from view.

  Dave, following the map and the route we had marked on it with his finger, gave me advanced warning of approaching turns. The plan was to head to the M5 motorway, which we knew was clear after meeting the soldiers who had come from Cheltenham, and making the best speed we could, then to leave the motorway at the nearest exit to the small village where Louise’s parents lived.

  Maintaining a slow but steady speed, we drove down narrow country lanes. I couldn’t see much from my position at the rear of the convoy, only seeing the evidence from the warnings given over the radio of a vehicle pushed to one side to clear the way, or zombies crushed by one of the vehicles in front or re-killed by a spear as they passed them.

  By the time ones that had fallen victim to the plough emerged from underneath the vehicle in front of me, there was not much left of them. The occasional one would still be thrashing about, even though most of it had been mangled beyond recognition, showing that unless you destroyed the brain, they could still be a threat. I always tried to aim for the head to end another one’s existence.

  An hour later and not encountering anything that gave us a problem, we drove down the slip road and onto the motorway. The way ahead, as we had been promised, was clear and Shawn picked up the speed. Steering around abandoned vehicles, the miles slipped away.

  Louise’s voice came over the radio, stopping our chatter.

  “Slowing down. There is something written on the side of a van ahead.”

  Slowing to a crawl, we followed in a line until a call over the radio told us to stop.

  I pulled out from behind the van to see what was going on.

  A van was sitting across two lanes of the motorway. Writing was crudely sprayed in large red letters along its side.

  ‘ROAD CLOSED. PAY A TRIBUTE TO PASS’

  “What the hell?” I said, “The soldiers didn’t tell us about this.”

  Dave was looking ahead through some binoculars.

  “It may not have been here a few days ago. I can’t see much from down here.”

  He picked up the radio and asked if anyone could see what was going on ahead.

  Shawn came back.

  “The road looks to be completely blocked about a mile ahead, but I can’t make out much more than that. We need to get closer.”

  Simon pulled up beside me and stood on his seat. I did the same, so we could all talk.

  “Dave. It’s time to see if the scout vehicle theory works. Both of us will go and check it out. Leave everyone else here, there’s enough of them to protect themselves.

  These guys, whoever they are, are not military. Who asks for a tribute these days? It’s probably some punks hoping to score some easy supplies from some poor sod.”

  “What happens if they’re a group like us?” Chet asked from the seat behind me, “Do we give them something to let us through?”

  Dave turned to him.

  “I can guarantee they will not be like us. That sign says it all. I can’t tell you how many similar signs I’ve seen in pisspot countries all over the world.

  It will be some local wanna be hard knocks thinking they can get easy pickings without having to work for it. The problem is in most third world countries, those kids carry AK47s so you have to handle it carefully. Here, we haven’t a clue what, if at all, they’ll be armed with. We should do this carefully and let me do the talking.

  “Simon, unhook the trailer and stay to our side to cover us with the gun. Everyone else, get your weapons up and ready. We may as well show them we aren’t to be messed with.”

  I looked up at Becky, who was looking at me from the side of the trailer. Stanley and Daisy stood by her side, and they all had worried looks on their faces.

  I waved and mouthed ‘I love you’ at them, then I slid down in my seat and started the car and pulled slowly forward.

  Simon followed slightly behind me and to the side. Jim stood ready, standing on the passenger seat of the Defender, his shoulder pressed against the mounted machine gun, ready to fire if necessary.

  Dave, Chet and Daniel stood on the seats, all holding a weapon visible and ready.

  The closer we got, the clearer it was to make out that the motorway was completely blocked by a barricade of cars and vans. I couldn’t see beyond that from my position in the driving seat, but from Dave’s vantage point standing up, he reported that it looked as if they’d had formed a small fort of cars surrounding a few lorries. Its position by a bridge going o
ver the motorway would make it impossible to get around.

  I saw a few heads looking over the cars facing us as we drew closer.

  Dave had the binoculars pressed to his eyes.

  “I can see a few of them, can’t make out how many there are, but it does look as if they have some guns with them.”

  He chuckled, “Well, with my eyesight they’re either broomsticks or guns, but they’re holding them as if they’re guns, so that’ll do. Let’s assume they’re armed and not particularly friendly. It can only get better from that position.”

  I stopped about fifty metres away.

  A man stood up on the barricade. He held a rifle with the stock pressed against his hip and the barrel pointing up into the air.

  Dave muttered, “Look at the idiot. Does he think he’s fucking Rambo or something? The only thing holding a rifle that way will impress is his own ego.”

  The man shouted something, but the distance made it unintelligible.

  “Pull closer.” Said Dave “When we stop, keep it in reverse and be ready to go if I shout.” And to everyone else. “If you see anyone point a gun in our direction, do not hesitate, shoot them. I do not have a good feeling about this.”

  Three cars lay abandoned ahead, doors open, their contents scattered around them.

  “I’d say from the look of those cars, these boys have met a few others,” Dave muttered quietly.

  Passing the cars, I could see a few bloodstains, but no evidence of bodies.

  Dave signalled me to stop twenty metres from the wall of cars.

  He shouted in a friendly manner.

  “Hello. How are you doing? You seem to have a nice set-up here and we would love to stop and chat, but we need to continue our journey. If you would kindly move some cars out of the way, we will be past and on our way before you know it.”

  The man, who was still standing on the bonnet of a car and holding what looked to be a hunting rifle, stared back at us.