‘We can do this,’ he said, shouting to make himself heard through his facemask and over the wind and rain and sounds of constant battle. The muddied ground shook momentarily as a small mortar landed short of its target and exploded nearby, sending a gruesome shower of random body parts shooting into the squally air. ‘If we’re going to do this at all, then we should do it now.’
Jennens thought for a moment. Cowell was right. The opposition, although huge in numbers, was weak and offered no tangible resistance. Although wiping them out would not allow the soldiers any more freedom, this was unquestionably a perfect opportunity to take back some of what they’d lost. The defensive position they’d intended to take had already become offensive and attacking. If they could destroy enough bodies and beat the remainder back to a far enough distance and keep them there, they would be able to fortify the entrance to the bunker and properly clear and secure the exhaust vents. Although there was still no way the military personnel could yet survive outside the base, the officer immediately recognised the psychological importance of ridding themselves of the tens of thousands of cadavers which plagued and complicated their already miserable existence.
‘Shall I give the order?’ Cowell asked. Jennens looked around the battlefield again. In the short time he’d been stood there his troops had made even more progress through the diseased crowds. The enemy (if they could really be called that) were defenceless against the comparative might of the military. All the dead had were numbers. Jennens knew they had nothing to lose.
‘Do it,’ he commanded.
‘Can’t see,’ complained Baxter, edging closer to the soldiers charged with protecting the hanger entrance. ‘Can’t see a bloody thing.’
‘Stay back, Jack,’ Michael warned.
A sudden familiar noise from behind the small group of survivors startled them momentarily. Cooper span around to see that the decontamination chamber doors were opening again.
‘Shit,’ he cursed as a second ragged column of nervous soldiers appeared from the depths of the base. There seemed to be almost twice as many of them this time.
‘What’s all this about?’ asked Heath anxiously.
‘My guess,’ Cooper answered as he watched more than a hundred troops file past, ‘is that they’ve decided to try and clear them away. This is the showdown we’ve been promised.’
As they emerged from the shadows into the light of the hanger the soldiers increased their speed, breaking into a gentle jog for a few paces before accelerating and sprinting out into the semi-darkness with weapons held high, ready for battle. The light outside was deteriorating rapidly. The survivors stared anxiously into the gloom as the guards at the front entrance parted to allow the re-enforcements through.
‘This isn’t good,’ Baxter whined, feeling his stomach churn and twist with nerves. ‘This is not at all good.’
As the fighting outside increased in ferocity and volume, the small group of survivors again herded towards their transports. Michael climbed into the motorhome and found it already crowded with frightened people, each of them clutching the few personal belongings they’d managed to grab hold of in the sudden confusion. In the front seats Donna had taken his usual position behind the wheel.
Emma was sitting next to her.
‘You two okay?’ he asked, leaning into the front cabin.
‘Just great,’ Donna answered through teeth clenched together with nervous anticipation. She gripped the steering wheel tightly in readiness should they suddenly need to move. Emma looked up and flashed him a momentary smile.
‘We’re okay,’ she said quietly. ‘Are you going to…?’
‘I’m going back to the others,’ he said quickly. ‘There are enough people in here already. Listen, Donna, if anything happens you just put your foot down on the fucking accelerator and get out of here.’
‘Be careful,’ Emma pleaded. ‘Look, why can’t you stay…?’ she began to say but he had already gone.
There was clearly no more room in the motorhome -
because of its more comfortable and open design many of the survivors had gravitated towards it rather than shutting themselves away in the insides of the more secure but claustrophobic prison truck. Michael found, however, that the prison truck (with Steve Armitage ready as ever behind the wheel) was also virtually full. Cooper called him over to the police van.
‘There are only a couple in the back here,’ he said, gesturing over his shoulder towards the back of the van.
‘Just make sure that either you or I get behind the wheel if we need to make a move, okay?’
‘Okay.’
Breathless and red faced, Bernard Heath appeared from around the back of the van.
‘I’ve done a quick count of heads,’ he wheezed. ‘I think everyone’s accounted for.’
Cooper nodded and then stood and watched and waited.
Outside the base a wide swathe of land had been cleared.
The majority of the soldiers and machines had now been formed into long attacking lines, ready to sweep out across the land from the bunker entrance and destroy more of the bodies. Now that the jeeps had been positioned over all but one of the vents, the main objective of the excursion had been achieved. What was happening now was largely unplanned but still relatively well coordinated. From positions just behind the advancing troops heavy artillery fired over their heads and out into the distance, relentlessly pounding the land and cutting deep into the shadowy crowds, destroying countless scores of bodies. All around momentary bursts of brilliant yellow, orange and white light pierced the monochrome gloom and, like camera flashes, illuminated the grotesque hordes for a fraction of a second at a time. Deafening explosions shook the ground and rumbled through the early evening air. The troops moved steadily forward away from the entrance to the base.
Progress continued to be relatively quick and largely unimpeded.
The attacking line of ground troops fanned out as they moved away from the bunker, pushing the crowds back.
There remained a bloody and relatively constant gulf of several metres between the advancing soldiers and the dead. Ignorant to the danger that they faced, those creatures which had so far escaped the wrath of the military continued to move ever closer, dragging themselves over the putrefying remains of the thousands of corpses that had been destroyed before them.
‘Aim for their heads,’ a sergeant yelled as his troops unleashed another furious volley of bullets and flame into the seething mass of cadavers. Undeterred, the bodies continued to shuffle and trip forwards.
A short distance further down the military line, a soldier named Ellis stood up to his ankles in blood and rancid flesh and picked out individual corpses from the crowd up ahead.
With the skill and concentration of a highly trained marksman he managed to shut off from the mayhem and confusion all around him and aimed at each body in turn, shooting them in the head and obliterating what remained of their brains. They dropped twitching to the ground and were immediately trampled by more dark figures advancing from behind. Conditions were becoming steadily worse with smoke, flame and rain all making it impossible to see clearly through the fading light of a dull and stormy dusk.
To Ellis’ left and to his right his colleagues continued to fight alongside him, each of them destroying as many bodies as they could. But still the crazed creatures continued to advance. For every one that Ellis destroyed, ten more seemed to take its place. And beyond there remained thousands more. Out of view still more and more and more of them crawled through the darkness.
‘Fucking hell,’ the soldier to the immediate right of Ellis cursed. ‘I can’t keep up with this. Christ, how many of these fucking things are there?’
They continued to shoot and the bodies continued to advance, spilling ever forward like some dark, thick liquid.