Pandemic Z | Book 3 | Pandemic Z 3 Page 15

  Oliver watched the zombies follow., “Harry! Isabella! We have a slight problem here! What’s the plan now?”

  “We need to catch up to George,” Harry said. Harry pushed himself forwards, determined to catch George. “Come on!” he breathed aloud as he pedaled fast.

  Oliver took off behind Harry, swerving in and out of the rows of trees. The zombies ran faster, and he struggled to catch up. The soft hum of an engine caught his ears. Oliver pedaled slower, glancing over his shoulder to see a man in a backward cap driving a beat-up old Skoda.

  The man locked eyes with Oliver, the stranger’s face turning somewhat amused. He waved a tablet at him before turning his eyes to it. Within seconds, Oliver saw the grey figures break formation, mechanically turning towards him. They dribbled and growled, stepping in perfect unison towards him.

  “Oh, no you do not!” he hissed at the zombies, picking up speed.

  He sped down the street, and two zombies lumbered after him, quickly catching up to him as he pedaled faster. Oliver knew this particular street well. He knew there was a back alley close by that led directly to the local Morrison’s. He’d often ducked off down the alley to avoid seeing his school friends.

  George and Harry pedaled quickly side by side. Isabella clung onto Harry, trying her hardest not to ingest some of his wild, flowing hair. She stole a glance behind her and saw that the zombies were close and getting even closer every second.

  Oliver zoomed past them, cutting ahead of them on the path. He pointed frantically to the left, gesturing to the upcoming alleyway.

  “GO LEFT, FOLLOW ME!” he screamed, hoping that by some miracle they had heard him and understood what he was asking them to do.

  He skidded around the corner, kicking up dust as he hopped over the curb heading straight down the alley. Harry wasted no time following.

  He turned the handlebars, pulling the bike easily onto the pavement. “Hold on, Isabella!” he called back to her, picking up speed.

  George watched as Harry followed Oliver. He turned his handlebars towards the pavement, hitting the curb head-on. He quickly shoved his front tire over the lip and pulled the rest of the bike with him. As quickly as he could, he followed his friends into the alley.

  Oliver looked back over his shoulder instead of watching where he was pedaling. He crashed hard right into a wooden fence halfway down the alley. He hopped off his bike, regaining his balance before kicking the fence with great force.

  “This fucking thing wasn’t here when I came here last!” he cursed, kicking the fence again.

  Harry leaned his bike against the wall, looking around the alleyway. “What do you mean?” he asked. The fence didn’t look new. It looked like it had been there for years.

  Oliver sighed. “I used to come down here to skip school. There’s a Morrison’s at the other end. I used to get into trouble and then escape down this alleyway.” He spoke with sadness. Talking about his past made him miss it.

  Harry stared up at the fence. Long, sharp ends jutted out of the top of the wood. “I guess whoever built that fence knew it was a popular getaway point,” he said softly, pointing up at the long points.

  Harry could hear the enemy advancing. The zombies moved with loud steps and low voices. It was easier to hear them than see them. He searched the alley, looking for a way to escape. After how far they’d come, he wasn’t ready to be eaten alive at the very last moment.

  The dirty window caught his eyes. The window was almost completely covered with dust, spider’s webs, and mud. Harry stepped closer to it, attempting to peer through the glass to see what was inside. He crouched to look through the lowest part of the window but couldn’t find a spot that would allow him to see anything. He then stood on his tiptoes, and he could see through a tiny sliver of a clean spot. The window was part of a pub. Several customers sat drinking pints and chatting.

  Harry looked at his friends. “We have to get inside, and we have to hurry!” He talked as quietly as possible, knowing any kind of noise might bring the zombies closer.

  George looked at the dirty window, grimacing. He hated spiders, and the sight of all the thick webs made his stomach churn. “How do you think we’re going to break the glass?” he asked.

  Harry pulled himself up on the fence. He grabbed a spike, ignoring the cutting pain in his hands. He continued to pry it free, letting it fall to the ground as it sprung loose from its wooden prison.

  Oliver scooped it up. The spike was small, and he didn’t think it looked like it could break the glass. “Mate, I don’t mean to be a downer right now, but this spike doesn’t look like it will get through that glass,” he informed Harry.

  Harry jumped down. “I know that, but just hold on a moment.” He pulled the plank of wood he’d stood on free from the fence. “You see, Oliver, whoever made this fence wasn’t so great at carpentry.”

  Oliver looked from the spike to the heavy plank of wood. “Okay, so we use it as a battering ram against the window, and then do what with the spike?”

  Harry pointed down the alley towards the zombies’ noises. “Just in case they get here before I can get this thick ass window broken open.”

  He didn’t wait for an answer before smashing the wood against the glass. Harry pulled it back, thrusting it forward into the glass again. The crusted pane cracked as the first zombie emerged down the alley.

  Harry focused on the plank. He thrust it harder at the window, and the cracks grew wider as more zombies turned up. Discarding the wood, Harry full on kicked the glass. The dust fell around him as he kicked a second time. Summoning all his strength, he kicked again, and the glass cascaded around him, breaking the window enough for them to crawl into the pub.

  Harry crawled through the gap first, offering his hands to Isabella who was close behind. Oliver pushed his way through, followed by George who squeezed himself through the gap just as the zombies reached the end of the alley.

  Harry frantically tried to board the window back up to keep them out. He tried to grab a bench, but he struggled with the weight of it.

  “Here, let me help,” Sergeant Turner said as he grinned kindly at the long-haired stranger.

  He lifted the bench with ease, blocking the bottom of the hole. A zombie reached through the glass, growling and spitting at the people inside the pub. Lena, Barry, and Harrison leaped from their table and made their way over.

  Lena pulled out her gun which was still full of bullets and took aim. Barry had taken the prime minister’s weapon once they’d arrived at the bar. She felt he’d make more use of it than she would, and it appeared she was right about that.

  Harry and Oliver watched as the adults stood behind the bench barricade, taking shots at the zombies. George and Isabella were amazed at the reflexes of the three strangers who shot and stabbed the zombies.

  Emily offered her hand to George. “Let me help you up!” she offered, pulling him off the ground and helping him onto the closest seat.

  Harrison took another shot, turning to see Barry focusing on the last zombie. Smiling, Harrison tucked his gun back into his belt. With great triumph, Barry fired the last bullet. The final zombie fell in a heap with the others.

  Isabella, Oliver, and Harry sat beside George, waiting for the adults to join them. Lena slid back into her seat beside Barry. She studied the children, wanting to know where they came from and who they were. They looked exhausted and were soaking wet. It was clear to her that she wasn’t the only one with adventures to tell.

  Emily pulled another chair up, hesitating before sitting down. Her flight attendant skills kicked in as she looked at the large group of warriors—both children and adults—crammed around the small table. “Can I get anyone anything?” she asked, smiling sweetly.

  George grinned from ear to ear. “Do they sell walnut whips here?”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The queen held her dog gently, stroking his fur with the softest of touches. Ryan and Nathan stuck their heads around the side of the building, observing the
groups of zombies milling around the front grounds of Buckingham Palace.

  Sean crumpled the curtains together, pulling them free from the windowsill. “We need to get to the Merchant Pub,” he told her as politely as possible.

  Nathan tiptoed back to the queen and Sean. “Backup has finally arrived!” he said, beaming.

  Sean dashed to the edge of the wall, peering around to see a long convoy of army trucks, tanks, and an ice-cream van. Sean blinked a dozen times to make sure his vision wasn’t playing foolish tricks on him. He pushed away from the wall, focusing his attention back to Nathan.

  Nathan grinned. “The EJG is here. The most elite group in the whole goddamn army!”

  Sean paused, chewing at his lip. “And you’re telling me that the most elite group in the goddamn army drives into battle with an ice cream truck?” he asked, not quite believing what he was seeing.

  Nathan scrunched up his face in confusion. He hadn’t seen an ice cream truck in the convoy. “There isn’t one, is there?” he tentatively said, peering around the wall again.

  Sean was right. The ice-cream truck drove at the very end of the convoy. Nathan gasped in surprise. He’d always known the EJG would be full of surprises. He just never thought they would have an ice-cream truck as part of the surprise.

  Sean crossed his arms over his chest and raised his chin proudly. “See, an ice cream truck,” he stated, knowing from Nathan’s hanging mouth he’d seen it, too.

  Nathan turned back to Sean. “You’re right, sir, but I don’t get it at all,” he mused.

  The three soldiers slowly stuck their heads back around the wall, earnestly trying to flag down the moving convoy. The head driver focused on the zombies crowded around their vehicles, pawing and scratching at anything they could.

  As they watched, the ice-cream van pulled out of formation, switching its cheery music on and driving through the zombies. The van parked right beside the giant fountain that stood in the middle of the grounds.

  Sean furrowed his eyebrows. “What the fuck is that little van doing?” he asked the others watching excitedly.

  Nathan shuffled further out from the wall. “I have no idea what it’s doing, but I know the EJG has a great plan.” He smiled as he watched the convey move in perfect motion.

  The ice-cream van continued to play its cheery music, attracting the zombies towards it. The rest of the convoy circled around the front grounds, creating a green enclosure around the zombies flocking towards the ice-cream van.

  Ryan watched in amazement. “Holy fuck, I know what they’re doing.” He’d seen the movements before while studying for his military training.

  “My dad told me about this, too!” Nathan added, following the convoy’s movements.

  The zombies crowded the noisy van, climbing to reach the noise. Some zombies wobbled and tumbled into the shallow waters of the fountain. The other zombies pushed and shoved at the van, closing in further.

  Sean traced a path carefully from the side of the building, following a route to the Land Rover. “Ryan,” he said, turning to face him.

  Ryan shuffled closer to Sean. “Yes, sir?” he said, hoping Sean would have a plan.

  Sean pointed to the Land Rover. “We need to get out of here.”

  Ryan nodded in agreement. “Yes, sir, we do, but where are we going?”

  “The Merchant Pub,” he told Ryan. “Do you know it at all?”

  He chuckled at the question. He’d been there many times before joining the army. “I can get us there if you get us back to the Rovers,” he offered, turning his attention back to the grounds.

  The green vehicles closed in on the zombies, trapping them in a smaller area with each step. The ice-cream van drew the crowds in quickly, and the zombies flocked towards it, eager to get to the source of the noise.

  Sean gestured the queen over to where they crouched. “Follow us closely. I’ll go first, you follow, and Ryan will go behind you just in case,” he instructed, eyeing the Land Rover in the distance.

  “Where should I go?” Nathan questioned, kneeling closer to the others. “I can go last, just in case something rotten happens,” he suggested, not wanting to be first.

  Sean agreed. “Sounds like a plan to me,” he muttered, righting himself beside the wall.

  The path to the Land Rovers was clear. Sean jogged out into the open, breaking into a sprint towards the Land Rover. The queen rushed quickly behind Sean, holding her precious dog in her arms. Ryan followed, glancing towards the convoy as he ran.

  Sean reached the Land Rover in no time, crouching behind it and waiting for the others. The queen, Ryan, and Nathan made their way across the tarmac towards the Land Rover when a zombie broke free from the bustling group that had been heading towards the ice-cream van. The grey figure advanced towards the queen, teeth bared and saliva dripping freely from his mouth.

  Ryan dove in front of the queen, staring into its blackened eyes and ready to fight back.

  Sean watched from behind the Land Rover. He saw what happened and knew Ryan was ready to fight. The other soldier didn’t know the dog would scare the zombie off. “Ryan,” he called out, voice no louder than what was absolutely necessary.

  Ryan heard Sean, but he didn’t dare turn around in case the zombie advanced and hurt the queen.

  Sean cupped his hands around his mouth. “The dog! Use the fucking dog!” he yelled a little louder.

  “What can a dog do?” he mused quietly, glancing at the dog over his shoulder.

  The dog in the queen’s arms barked and growled softly at first. The intense atmosphere intimidated the cute ball of fur. The zombie stopped in its steps, not moving any farther as the dog continued to bark. The bark grew louder and louder, and the zombie retreated as the noise overwhelmed it.

  Ryan stepped aside, letting the dog have a full view of the zombies. The furry pooch barked wildly, snarling and growling at the retreating grey figure. The queen stroked the soft fur lovingly. The dog had frightened the zombie off enough.

  The queen and the two soldiers quickly moved out of the way of danger towards the Land Rover. Sean beamed at his friends. He reached out and gently pet the dog.

  ***

  The road towards The Merchant Pub was busy and filled with more confused people and zombies. The queen sat in the passenger seat as Sean operated the wheel. Nathan and Ryan watched the streets from the back. The atmosphere was silent, and no one really knew what to say. They simply enjoyed the silence.

  Sean nervously tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. He hated the silence, and he felt uncomfortable.

  Ryan watched the people interact with each other. A beggar reached out for a rich man’s wallet, but instead of stealing it, he placed it kindly in the rich man’s hand. Ryan could not help but smile at the beautiful signs of humanity.

  Nathan silently watched the street roll by. The people on the roads reached out lovingly to their neighbors.

  The queen sighed, turning from the window. “Thank you for saving me from those god-awful men.”

  Sean gulped the lump in his throat away. “Just… my humble duty, Your Majesty.” The words stumbled out. He was nervous to have such a casual conversation with the ruling head of the British Isles.

  “Turn here!” Ryan almost screamed as they passed the pub on the corner.

  Sean steered the Land Rover around the corner, pulling it to a stop in a roughly painted parking space. He hopped down from the machine, legging it around the Land Rover to open the passenger door for the queen to get down with ease.

  Nathan and Ryan jumped from the vehicle, turning towards the pub. The rich smell of fish and chips mixed in with brewed beer and famous pub soda.

  Ryan led the way to the main entrance. “Fun fact: they put the main door on the side because people kept dashing in here to avoid the police,” he told Nathan, laughing to himself at the memories of dashing inside the pub.

  Nathan shrugged. “Great,” he replied as enthusiastically as possible.

  Ryan pulled t
he door open. “It also opens outwards, so it was more difficult to dive in on the run,” he added.

  Nathan looked at his friend. “How do you know all this?” he asked, not exactly wanting the answer.

  Ryan chuckled. “I was the one dashing in here and running from the rozzers!” he told him, slightly ashamed of his checkered past.

  “Great,” Nathan said again. He didn’t exactly know what “rozzers” were, but he figured they were the police.

  Ryan shoved his friend through the door into the pub. “Every time you say ‘great,’ you sound so fucking sarcastic,” he told Nathan, following him into the cozy pub.

  Sean and the Queen followed the other boys into the pub. An eerie silence fell over the customers. They stared at the queen with their mouths hanging open. No one could quite believe it was the queen herself standing in the pub.

  “Is that…?” a man quietly whispered to his friend who sat beside him.

  The friend didn’t reply. He stared at the queen in amazement and confusion, convinced he hadn’t yet had enough to drink to have such vivid dreams.

  Sean offered the queen a pint, guiding her towards an empty table.

  “Hey, Sean! Over here!” Sergeant Turner stood, waving his pint glass in the air.

  Sean beamed at seeing his commander. Seeing him slightly drunk was a bonus. He rushed over, guiding the queen over to join them. Ryan and Nathan pulled up more chairs, cramming more people at the small table.

  George opened the precious walnut whip, shoving the entire thing into his large mouth. Barry laughed at him, raising his pint of peach Smirnoff ice. The others around the table slowly, one by one, raised their beers. Harry lifted his hamster energy drink, and Isabella joined in the toast by lifting her simple glass of water. George swallowed his walnut whip, raising his Iron Bru. Oliver sighed. He hated toasts, but he lifted his Iron Bru alongside his friends.