Pandemic Z | Book 3 | Pandemic Z 3 Page 4

  Harry continued down the path, hoping to find his friend. He had completely forgotten about him in all the excitement. “Where are you, Oliver?” he said under his breath.

  George followed closely, trying to drag his bike beside him. The heavy frame dug into his wet skin, making it more difficult to move. “Oliver!” he yelled without thinking.

  They each turned as the trees rustled, worrying each of them in turn.

  “Shut up!” she hissed, annoyed at his loud noises. “You’re going to get us killed!” She hated noisy people, and George couldn’t even breathe quietly.

  Harry tiptoed as best he could over the gravel track. “Oliver,” he said again quietly.

  A nearby tree rustled, and they turned, preparing for when a grotesque zombie might appear. They were out of ideas and had nothing to use as weapons, but doubting themselves wasn’t an option.

  Harry held his breath as he saw something approach. The rustling grew louder as the tree leaves parted. Harry gasped louder, not expecting to see what emerged through the leaves.

  “Holy shit!” he yelped, backing away slowly.

  The end of a rifle peaked through the foliage, and Oliver stepped carefully forwards. The rainwater clinging to the leaves and branches plopped down on him and the surrounding ground as he disturbed the forest life.

  Oliver looked at Harry. “Nice to see you finally came back!” he laughed, lowering the barrel of the rifle.

  Harry brushed off his shirt, though it was of no use. “Fucking hell! You almost shot me!” He motioned towards the gun.

  Oliver stepped closer to Harry. It was good to see his friends alive. He opened his mouth to speak, but the wild ringing from the phone in his pocket stopped him. He hastily removed the battered mobile to look at the ID.

  “Oh, God,” he muttered to himself. “It’s my parents.” He inhaled deeply, dreading to hear what his parents would say. He hit the answer button and held the receiver to his ear. “Hello?”

  “Oliver,” she said loudly and sternly, “Oliver is that you?”

  Oliver wiped his forehead. He already knew she was worried he’d run off to deal with whatever was in his imagination. “Yes, mum, it’s me,” he reported.

  “Get back here as soon as you can, boy!” she shouted into the phone. “Come back here, you hear me!”

  Oliver nodded, knowing she still didn’t believe him. “Yes, mum, but that’ll be difficult with the zombies and all.” He partially pulled her chain, knowing she didn’t believe in such things.

  Janice scoffed. “There are no zombies, you silly little child,” she told him confidently. “I won’t let you watch any more of that stupid show anymore! It’s giving you the most ridiculous imagination. Do you honestly think I’m dumb enough to believe in zombies? You shouldn’t be either! I raised you better than that.”

  Oliver rolled his eyes; he didn’t want to say anything.

  “Tell your friends to go home. You better be home soon,” she told him. “You’ll be in trouble if you don’t! And I’m serious when I say no more Dwindling Fire!”

  His finger hovered over the end call button. He’d become angry listening to his mother’s ignorance. His friends didn’t fully understand just how bad it could be with her sometimes. No one ever understood.

  Oliver heard muffled sounds on the other side of the call along with mumbling from his mother. Within a few short moments, his father’s voice sounded loud and proud through the line.

  “Oliver, it’s Dad,” he said shortly into the receiver.

  Oliver sighed. More reprimands. “Hey, Dad,” he said in a monotone voice. He could hear his mother chattering in the background. “I’m on my way home,” he said simply, knowing there wasn’t much point in fighting.

  “This isn’t real,” Ronan said. “These zombies are just from your comic books.”

  Oliver sighed. He wished they knew the reality. What a shock they would get if they discovered the zombies were real, and they really had to run from them.

  In the background, Harry and George wiped off their bikes. The mud had begun to dry in clumps around the wheel spokes. They pulled grass from the arches and walked up and down the gravel pathway to make sure their bikes rolled as best as could be expected. Oliver continued to answer the same thing on the phone. It didn’t look good.

  Harry walked back yet again with his bike. He’d grown bored with doing the same thing while waiting for Oliver. He looked around the park, secretly hoping for someone or maybe even something to come their way so they would have to leave quickly. The horizon was eerily silent, however, and all he could hear was the light rain.

  Unfortunately for him, he hadn’t been looking in the right direction.

  “GUYS WE GOTTA RUN!” Isabella screamed as a swarm of zombies emerged out of nowhere. These moved even faster than the ones they’d seen before.

  Harry hopped onto his bike, pulling up beside Isabella. George swung his leg over his crossbar again, waiting for Harry or Oliver to take the lead. The zombies quickly closed the distance, almost breathing down the kids’ necks.

  “Dad, I gotta go,” Oliver said quickly into his phone. He straddled his bike, pedaling quickly away. “I’ll call you soon!” He added hastily. The last thing he needed was to make his parents angrier.

  “Now Oliver,” Ronan said calmly. “This is ridiculous! Come home this instant!”

  Oliver had had enough. “We are being chased right now! I have to go!” he said angrily before hanging up and shoving it in his back pocket.

  The zombies lumbered after the bikes with newfound speed. Their movements were almost robotic in nature. They moved as if they fought to go one way and something was willing them to go in another. As if someone had control of them.

  Oliver pedaled as fast as he could. He led them towards the swinging gates, hoping they could make it out before the zombies caught up to them. The horde’s speed was shocking, to say the least. Leaving the park wouldn’t be enough.

  A large gust of wind hit Oliver hard, causing him to sway. He stood and continued to pedal as he re-situated himself on the bike. His phone slipped out of his back pocket and landed hard on the ground just as it rang. The screeching ringtone echoed throughout the park, attracting zombies towards it.

  Oliver knew it was his father calling to yell at him for hanging up on him, but he didn’t care. He sure as hell wasn’t about to go back for it. There were bigger things to deal with than his father. Harry, Isabella, George, and he could see the three large gates at the head of the park. They were getting closer. The zombies closed in quickly, forcing them to pedal like their lives depended on it.

  “Harry!” Oliver yelled as the zombies grew closer.

  Harry turned to look at Oliver. “We have to close the gates behind us!” he yelled back.

  “How do we do that?” he called back to Harry.

  “Me and Isabella will take the big one in the middle. You take that one.” He pointed at the left one, hoping Oliver understood. “George will get the last one.”

  They pedaled faster to the gates as the zombies followed closely. The rain continued to fall, battering them from every angle as the wind blew while they powered on. Harry could see the gate ahead of him, and he hoped his plan would work.

  Chapter Five

  Sergeant Turner forcefully pushed the thoughts of treason from his mind. That was a problem to deal with later. The Land Rover was ready to head into battle. All they waited for was Barry and Harrison to return with news, or even better, weapons.

  Barry strutted across the tarmac, struggling with a large duffel bag. Harrison hurried with a duffel slung over his shoulder and fitted easily above his waist. The two men reached the Land Rover and threw their bags down triumphantly.

  Lena stared at the bags. “Great. Two Adidas duffels. What’s in them, and why do the two of you look so proud?”

  “Did you know,” Barry replied, slightly out of breath, “Adidas was the brainchild of a Nazi known as Adolf Dassler?” He pushed his mouth into
a small smile. The reactions he received when he told them random facts always amazed him.

  Harrison stepped back. “A Nazi?” he asked in disbelief. “A Nazi developed a sports brand?” He couldn’t believe it.

  “So, what’s in the bag?” Lena asked again. Barry’s random fact intrigued her, but she was more interested in the bag’s contents. “And will it help us get the prime minister back?”

  Barry nodded excitedly. He felt like he’d accomplished something by getting the weapons. “They contain chipmunk teeth,” he told her with enthusiasm.

  Lena knew exactly what Barry meant—for once—because she knew the codes well. Every member of the UKSF had to pass a course dealing with the different codes. “Bloody hell, really?” She felt powerful with the stash of weaponry they had. She now felt just as proud to have the bags along for the ride.

  Barry didn’t know if Lena was playing with him or not. “Uh…” he nervously spoke. He was the only person on the team without military experience. “Yeah, real chipmunk teeth.”

  Harrison snorted. He found Barry innocently cute. He was the rookie of them all, but he gave it his best. “I was going to say something nasty, but I just can’t do that to you, mate,” he said chuckling to himself.

  “You did a great job, Barry!” Emily said, feeling the tension in the group. “I need to ask though… What are chipmunk teeth?” She was in the dark.

  Barry felt relieved that he wasn’t the only rookie among them. He didn’t feel so left out. “G—grenades,” he stuttered.

  Harrison smacked Barry on the shoulder. “Little Private Harrison here,” he boomed with his loud voice. “He had his first ever crash course in military codes today!”

  Lena smiled, feeling much safer now that they had weapons. “Hey, Dad, come look at these!” she said, beckoning him over. It was obvious he was lost in his pensive thoughts, watching the sun rise higher in the sky. “We have weapons!”

  Sergeant Turner turned toward his daughter, a sudden smile on his face. Attaining weapons had been the goal but being reminded of it made him happy. They were now ready to go on their daring rescue mission. “One Land Rover for Britain, one fucking miracle for mankind,” he muttered.

  Barry opened the back door of the Land Rover. “I’m guessing these are going in the boot?” he asked, not wanting to lift one of the heavy duffels without being sure of their destination.

  Harrison jumped to his side. The atmosphere between Lena and her father had become intense, and it made him feel awkward. “Here, let me help you, mate!” he said, eagerly pulling the duffel off the ground.

  “What is it?” Lena asked her father. He always kept to himself about issues, and it drove her crazy not knowing what was happening. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  Sergeant Turner gestured to the single vehicle. “I know it’s a powerful machine, Lena,” he said gruffly, “but we need more backup. Vehicles that can clear the way for us.” He kept running the idea through his mind over and over, but he had no idea where they could pull another group of large vehicles like those.

  Lena sighed. Unlike her father, she thought getting more vehicles would be easy. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said to her father.

  Lena jogged toward the airport terminal to go find one of the other soldiers. She remembered the Irish one from earlier and knew he might be able to help her.

  As she ran inside, the airport creaked and groaned, and the lights flickered on and off. The rising sun was a small blessing, reflecting brightly off the broken glass that littered the floor.

  Lena quickened her pace to a full run as she looked for the other soldiers. Turning a corner, she skidded to a halt as the tall Irish soldier stood in front of her with a group of young passengers safely secured from the zombies.

  “I need—to know,” she panted, “I need to know—where the other army trucks are.” She hadn’t realized just how hard she’d been running until she stopped and had to speak.

  The Irish soldier nodded. “Follow me,” he said, snapping into action.

  Lena stopped the eager soldier. “Wait, where are the others?” she asked.

  The Irish soldier bit his lip. “They went to go hunt the zombies. I was left here to tend to the flock,” he admitted, slightly ashamed.

  “How can we get them all together and back here? Easiest way possible.”

  The Irish soldier nodded. “Piece of cake,” he said, looking up to the ceiling. He had only ever howled as a werewolf, and he wasn’t sure if it would work while he was in his human form.

  The soldier sucked in as much air as he could and stood tall, ready to call the other soldiers. Opening his mouth wide, he let out a low, rough growl. The noise echoed around the airport, vibrating the glass wildly and filling every dusty corner with an unmistakable noise.

  The passengers covered their ears, cowering from the earsplitting sound of the Irish giant. Lena stood watching the soldier howl a second time. The noise cut right through her, making her ears scream with pain. The sight of the howling soldier was impressive, something she never thought she would ever see.

  One by one the soldiers appeared out of nowhere. After a third and final howl from the Irish fog horn, all the werewolf soldiers gathered around the group of huddled passengers.

  “Here they are!” the Irish brute beamed proudly. He hadn’t even broken a sweat from all his noise, and he felt the adrenaline pumping through him. “We’re ready to go!”

  The sight of the soldiers made her feel like the mission could be successful. “We need more soldiers to drive in a convoy,” Lena told the soldiers.

  The werewolf soldiers stood awkwardly beside each other. They wore a mismatched array of souvenir tops and bottoms. The soldiers awaited specific orders like it was any other mission.

  The usual military protocol was to have two vehicles in front and two behind with support vehicles a minimum of three meters away. “This is no ordinary mission, so we need special circumstances. Three in the front and three in the back,” she told the men.

  “Ma’am?” the Irish soldier hesitantly interrupted. “What’s going to happen to the people?” he asked, concerned for their safety.

  Lena looked at the passengers. Her eyes immediately found Claire and her two children hidden away behind the boy from Eaton. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “We need soldiers here, too, but we don’t have many people to spare.”

  A short, scrawny soldier raised her hand slightly. “There are ten of us, ma’am,” she told Lena the obvious. “If you take three in the front, three in the back and three support vehicles, then one stays here,” she said in a high-pitched voice.

  Lena nodded. One wolf wouldn’t be great odds, but it was better than leaving the people defenseless. “That will work,” she said, and the soldier smiled. “Who will stay behind?”

  The short female soldier stepped forward. “I will, ma’am,” she bravely said. “I’ve always been the support driver or the bait on risky missions, and this is my chance to prove myself.”

  Lena nodded and smiled, understanding the need to show what she could do. “Thank you.” She looked up at the other soldiers. “Follow me,” she said, heading towards the exit of the airport.

  Sergeant Turner was happy to see the werewolf soldiers emerge from the airport. He hadn’t doubted Lena in any way, but he was impressed at how quickly she had found all the soldiers they needed for the special convoy.

  Harrison and Barry sat on the back of their vehicle. They had already loaded the weapons inside and now waited for new orders. Emily stood close by, hoping not to impede the soldiers.

  “Well done!” Sergeant Turner said with pride as the soldiers got closer. “Just what we need to go rescue Mrs. Owens.”

  Lena nodded. She was eager to get on the road. They’d wasted enough time getting the preparations together, and she felt it was time to get going. She had never liked pre-mission briefings, but she knew their importance.

  The werewolf soldiers didn’t wait for Sergeant Turner’s orde
rs before heading off to get their military trucks from the adjacent car park.

  Emily looked at Harrison. “So, are we all going in the Rover?” she asked, unsure if she was hoping more for a yes or no.

  Harrison nodded. “I think so. Sergeant Turner will want to drive, and I reckon Lena will ride shotgun, and we’ll get the back.” He was excited.

  “I’ll take the middle seat,” Barry butted in. “No offense, but if we’re driving right into an infested zone, I don’t want to be the gunman on the window.” He was ready to go home and curl up in front of his computer. He had great ideas for a new zombie action game.

  Harrison seemed overly excited to swap seats with Barry. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea,” Harrison said with a chuckle. “Besides, I like the window seat best, so this works great for me.”

  Emily shrugged. She didn’t mind the idea of being by the window, but she was nervous if the time came when she would have to shoot. “I’m not a good shot,” she warned. She felt comfortable telling them her worries because it was now or never. If she got stuck in the window seat and couldn’t shoot, she could get someone killed. After their deep chat in the heart of the parkade, she felt more confident expressing her limitations.

  Harrison knew the feeling. When he’d first left the medic team, he hadn’t been great at hitting targets. He could shoot, but it wasn’t his strong suit. “I sucked at it, too,” he told Emily. “I wasn’t all that great, but do you want to know the best advice I was ever given?”

  Emily nodded, excited and relieved to hear any tips that anyone could offer. “Of course,” she said sweetly.

  “Well, my instructor always said to aim a little above the target you want to hit. Your eye level is slightly above the actual barrel.” He used his hands as he spoke. “So when you shoot, the bullet will hit lower than what you’re looking at.” He continued waving his hands around as he spoke. “However, if you aim a little higher, it’ll hit right on.” He finished his explanation pretending to fire his air gun at an imaginary target.