Capital Falling | Book 4 | Sever Read online

  “Contact, eleven o’clock!” Tyrone says quietly, panic in his voice and dropping to the grass below.

  Automatically, in a well-drilled manner, Jason follows suit. Dropping to his knees and then forward onto his belly, his rifle pointing at eleven o’clock, fear tightening his stomach.

  He immediately sees the enemy ahead, emerging through the trees on the far side of the clearing. Three creatures amble aimlessly out into the open and Jason realises that Tyrone has managed to spot them before they themselves have been seen. Jason’s fear subsides; they have the upper hand and the element of surprise.

  “Hold fire; let’s see what they do, as they might pass us by,” Jason whispers with the lead creature in his rifle’s sights.

  Both men hold position, tracking the undead with their rifles. The beasts continue their amble across the top of the field, but they move at a snail’s pace. Come on, Jason thinks as the rain begins to fall more heavily, get a bloody move on!

  The three creatures don’t pick up their pace, but they do change direction, turning their backs on Jason and Tyrone’s position to head away from them. Jason decides they can’t afford to wait any longer and begins to rise off the grass.

  “Come on, but stay low,” Jason tells Tyrone.

  Jason covers Tyrone as he begins to rise off the dampening grass, his aim not leaving the targets. His eyes scan right around the perimeter of the park, the dark shadows under the trees widening and closing in on him. Rain thumps against Jason’s helmet and distorts his vision, causing the shadows to flicker. Wind blows through the trees, turning them this way and that, every swaying branch threatening to reveal the army of the undead’s position that Jason’s petrified body is sure hides patiently amongst the trees.

  “What is it?” Tyrone asks, his voice echoing in Jason’s head. “Jason?”

  “It’s nothing, I just got spooked for a second,” Jason replies.

  “You and me both; I’m totally creeped out. Let’s get out of the open and find some cover,” Tyrone says.

  The only cover is in the trees, in the shadows, where the undead are waiting for us, Jason’s mind races, his feet rooted to the spot.

  “We can’t stay here mate, we’ve got to go,” Tyrone reasons, seeing that his comrade is struggling.

  Jason blinks, trying to break the spell that the haunting, dancing trees have cast over him. Rain drips from his eyelashes to run down his cheeks, and his vision blurs, filled with swaying tree branches. Jason blinks again and this time when his eyes reopen, he makes sure they are looking at the only tangible piece of sanity he can possibly find: Tyrone.

  “Let’s move,” Jason hears himself say. His leg wrenches his foot, to prise it off the grass that it is stuck to. His mind wavers again as his foot rises and then suddenly his mind snaps. His whole brain is filled with sound, a deafening high-pitched sound, his whole body vibrating under its assault.

  Jason’s mind somersaults and his body sways as if he might faint, the sound overwhelming him. Is this what madness sounds like? he asks himself, loud guitars and drums, the guitar’s riff all too familiar to him. Is he back at barracks with his squad, getting psyched up before they move out with AC/DC blasting out over the speakers? Or is it his mind playing tricks on him, playing out the song Thunder in his crazed mind as the storm moves in?

  Hands grab onto Jason’s combat vest and they shake him violently. He sees Tyrone’s wide panicked eyes staring straight at him and his mouth moves seemingly shouting. Faintly, Jason hears Tyrone’s shouts intertwined with the unrelenting music.

  “It’s a trap,” he shouts, ‘the tower, it’s a trap for the zombies.”

  Jason’s mind races, calculating what the hell is going on and finally reality bites back. The tower, placed in the middle of the clearing, blasting out AC/DC’s Thunder has been put there to attract the undead to it. Tyrone is right. It’s a speaker stack, a honey trap, and that can only mean one thing.

  “We gotta get outta here, this place is going to be overrun!” Jason shouts back at Tyrone whose face shows some relief in amongst his panic that his mates head is finally back in the game.

  Jason’s eyes dart back to the three creatures that were wandering away from them. He knows before he looks that they will be coming back in their direction, and he’s right. All three of the beasts have turned and are coming at them fast across the grass.

  The trees, no matter how much dread they bring to Jason, he knows they are their only possible salvation. He forces himself to look back at the bouncing trees, dancing in time to the overpowering heavy rhythm of AC/DC. This time, it isn’t the trees that fill him with dread; it is the figures emerging from the shadows beneath them. These figures aren’t crowds of people making their way to the rock concert; they are crowds of the undead ready to feed.

  Shots ring out from Tyrone’s rifle, adding to the cacophony of sound as he fires at the three creatures closing in on their position. Masses more are coming though, Jason sees, and he spins in the opposite direction towards where they had entered the park.

  Jason hears Tyrone shout something, but he can’t hear what he says above the blasting speakers. Creatures stream through the opening of the entrance they had come through, back beyond the clearing. There will be no escape that way, Jason’s terrified mind tells him. He can’t see an escape from the park in any direction.

  Whichever direction the two soldiers turn, hordes of the undead chasing across the field, fighting amongst themselves to be first to reach the honey pot. Tyrone releases another volley of bullets at the closest pack of creatures, but the meagre number of bullets in his magazine is wasted. Within seconds, the two men will be overwhelmed and ripped to shreds.

  Jason spins to face the monolith, the source of their torment, its dark green wooden façade vibrating. Jason fires off the hip as soon as he faces the target. Bullets pierce through the flimsy façade, splintering it before doing their work on the monolith’s innards. Immediately, the music’s volume is reduced drastically and as Jason moves the rifle's muzzle across and up, the cursed sound is finally cut.

  “On me,” Jason shouts to Tyrone.

  Tyrone, overjoyed that the incessant music has finally ceased, turns to see Jason jumping up on the structure behind him. Grabbing onto one of the lifting straps that dangle from its top, Jason starts to pull himself up.

  With the undead surrounding them, Tyrone doesn’t need asking twice and jumps for the other length of strapping.

  Deathly screeches ring out from every direction, almost on top of them. Tyrone’s hands grip the fabric strap and he yanks himself up, one hand over the other to pull himself higher. The wet fabric threatens to slide through his grip with every grasp, but he makes good progress and is quickly nearing the top. A steel scaffolding bar crowns the summit of the tower and Tyrone’s powerful arms pull on it to lift himself up and over the edge.

  There is a small shelf around the top of the tower, barely wide enough to hold Tyrone, but he squeezes his knees onto it and looks around to find Jason.

  The tower shudders as something crashes into it, and Tyrone realises the undead have reached the base of the tower as he wobbles on top of it. His hand gripping another scaffolding bar mounted near the centre surrounding the equipment positioned there, Tyrone leans over the side to where Jason was climbing.

  A cry of help greets Tyrone as his head peers down over the side. Jason’s petrified face stares up at Tyrone, his hands desperately trying to grip the lifting strap, but they slip on the wet fabric. Below Jason, the undead have closed in around the tower and are thronging at its base, dead hands reaching up to grab hold of Jason’s boots. Jason has lifted his feet up and out of the creature’s reach, but it has put him in a sitting position against the side of the tower and unable to climb.

  “Grab my hand,” Tyrone orders, reaching over the side to try and reach his comrade.

  Tears escape Jason’s terrified eyes and Tyrone sees that he is too afraid to let go of the strap. Reaching down further, as close as
he can get without releasing the scaffolding bar, Tyrone stares into Jason’s eyes.

  “Jason, take hold of my hand. Do it now.”

  Jason’s face changes to one of acceptance. He knows that he must reach out for Tyrone, and suddenly his left hand releases the strap to reach up. Tyrone stretches out to grab Jason’s hand; their fingertips touch and then Jason’s right hand slips.

  Jason stares at Tyrone as he falls away from him, their eyes locked together for what will be an eternity. “Noooo,” Tyrone screams as his mate falls away from him and into the throng of creatures below.

  Dead hands and arms pull Jason into them, and heads dart forward to sink their gruesome teeth into Jason’s flesh as Tyrone stares in utter shock. Jason’s throat releases an unholy scream as the teeth sink into him and he is pulled deeper into the pack of baying creatures. Tyrone sees Jason disappearing into the mass of undead and he must lift his eyes away; he cannot witness any more.

  Tears well in Tyrone’s eyes as he looks up to the sky where his tears are lost in the rain. The tower rocks again and with the sound of death encircling him, Tyrone screams at the heavens above.

  Alone, stranded and surrounded by the undead, Tyrone’s despair is interrupted. A buzzing sound enters his ears, and he forces his head down, bringing his face out of the heavy rain. He turns towards the source of the noise, but the rain makes it difficult for him to see anything.

  Gunfire explodes at Tyrone’s back and his head ducks in reflex. The rapid fire continues relentlessly and Tyrone’s head inches up to see where it is coming from. Through the rain, a shadow moves, red tracer fire spitting out from its belly. Howling wind buffets Tyrone, threatening to cast him off the top of the tower. This wind isn’t caused by the weather, however; it is coming from the rotors of the helicopter closing in over the tower.

  The gunfire suddenly stops as the helicopter approaches, easing directly over the top of the tower. Tyrone swerves out of the way as something drops down, nearly hitting him. It clatters against the scaffolding bar he is gripping onto to stop himself from being dislodged by the downdraft.

  Focusing, Tyrone sees the rung of a ladder swaying in front of him and suddenly understands. He quickly grabs onto the rung before anyone changes their minds about picking up the stranded squaddie from the middle of the undead horde.

  He doesn’t know how, but Tyrone manages to climb up the ladder, fighting against the downdraft, the wind, and the rain, almost to the top. His strength almost spent, someone grips the back of his combat vest to help haul him up over the edge and into the helicopter’s hold.

  “We’ve got him,” a voice shouts above the din and Tyrone feels the floor beneath him tilt. “You’re one lucky bastard,” the voice says as Tyrone is pulled up and into a seat. “You were about to be vaporised.”

  “What?” Tyrone manages to blurt out.

  “Here, look,” a man in a helmet says into his ear then leans back, points his two fingers at his eyes and then directs Tyrone’s vision out of the hold.

  Tyrone follows the man’s direction and looks out of the open hold door. Already in the distance, he sees the small park, in the middle of which, he can just make out, is the tower surrounded by a mass of bodies.

  A few seconds pass and a white light erupts at the epicentre of the park directly where the tower stood. A massive fireball instantaneously engulfs the white light and a mushroom cloud begins to form above the whole scene.

  Moments after the explosion hits, the helicopter tilts again and Tyrone’s view of the explosion is cut off.

  “A drone strike,” the man shouts at Tyrone, but all he can think of is his mate, Jason.

  Chapter 4

  Spiralling this way and that, the flames catch me in a trance as they flicker higher on their eternal dance, the heat from the fire drying out the skin on my face. Fire has always held a fascination for me, ever since I was a child and it nearly bit me more than once when I was young; a memory of me, hidden in the garden playing with matches crosses my mind. I am burning a stray thread from the bottom of my pyjama leg when a whoosh of blue flame travels up the outside of the material, burning through the build-up of fluff. I jumped out of my skin and luckily, nothing more than the fluff caught on fire. Straight after my scare, I quietly went to put the matches back, with a smell of singed hair following me. I didn’t mention my fright to anyone, especially my mother.

  A loud crackle explodes out of a damp log, its ember shooting up into the air. The ember joins the countless others pluming out of the top of the fire. My head eases back to watch them rise into the night sky before they are lost in the twinkling stars where their fuel is exhausted. Perhaps there is an all-knowing being watching our plight from above? If there is, I hope they are enjoying the show!

  “Hey soldier, are you away with the fairies again?”

  “I’m afraid I might have been,” I reply, pulled back to reality by Catherine’s voice.

  “Here, I got you a fresh beer,” Catherine says handing me a bottle as she takes her seat next to me on the tree trunk in front of the fire.

  “Great, thanks. I was just thinking, you know.”

  “I certainly do, Andy. There is so much to think about, but I thought we were going to try and have a night off?”

  “I know, I’m sorry. Are the girls okay?”

  “Yes; they’re still watching the film, snuggled up on the settee.”

  “She’s such a lovely girl Stacey is, isn’t she?”

  “Yes. Is that what you were thinking about?” Catherine asks.

  “Amongst other things. I feel so sorry for her, and useless.”

  “Don’t be silly. You tried to reach her parents and if there was anything more you could do for her, you would.” Catherine volunteers.

  “I know,” I say, but do I? We circled their building a couple of times and gave it a cursory look, but no more. Karen and Jim could easily still have been holed up inside and it’s possible they still are. We flew off at the first sign of trouble; could we have done more, gone inside to look for them, even?

  “Try not to beat yourself up about it, it was out of your control,” Catherine soothes. “Things are feeling down today because it’s quiet after the others left yesterday and we don’t know what the future holds. We’ve got to come to terms with it and form a plan for the future.”

  “It certainly is quiet around here without Dixon.” I smile.

  “Yes, he’s definitely a character, alright. Funny how Emily took to him.”

  “And him to her,” I laugh. “He didn’t seem the type.”

  “A soft centre under that rugged exterior,” Catherine jokes.

  “Definitely,” I reply.

  “I hope Josh and Alice aren’t too much longer,” Catherine says.

  “I’m sure they won’t be. Josh is driving after all, so he can’t drink too much. I’m sure it’s done them good to go to the pub for a while, take their minds off things.”

  “You could have gone with them, you know. I wouldn’t have minded staying here with the girls,” Catherine says.

  “I know you wouldn’t have. I didn’t want to go; I’d rather be here with you and Emily.”

  “Ah Andy, you’re just a big softie too,” Catherine teases me.

  “I don’t deny it,” I reply. “Might have done Stacey good to have a change of scenery though.”

  “No. I think she is best here with us for the moment. It’s very early days for her.”

  “Yes, you’re right, of course,” I agree.

  “How are you feeling about your appointment at the hospital tomorrow?” Catherine asks, taking my hand in hers.

  “I haven’t given it much thought, to be honest,” I answer.

  “Oh, come on, you must have,” Catherine insists.

  “Not much, no. I’ve had other things on my mind. I think it will be a waste of time,” I say, looking at my feet.

  “Typical man. Surely, you’re interested in what they can tell you about what’s happened to your body? Somethi
ng has changed since you fought off the infection. There’s a reason why the Rabids don’t attack you.”

  “I am interested. I just don’t hold out much hope that it’s going to change much. Believe me, nobody hopes they find some miraculous answer to this infection more than me,” I tell Catherine.

  “There you go then. It is possible some answers could be inside you.”

  “I guess we’ll find out, but I can guarantee we won’t find anything out tomorrow. They will take some blood samples and send me on my way.”

  “That’s probably true but at least it’s a start,” Catherine says. “What time shall we set off?”

  “We’ll have an early lunch and then get on the road. Are you sure you want to come? It’ll probably be a lot of waiting around?” I ask.

  “You men, honestly. Of course, I am coming with you. Would you send me off alone?”

  “No,” I reply.

  “Well, there you go. I am coming so don’t ask again. The kids will be fine for a few hours. Besides, I love driving around Devon.”

  “So, it’s a day out for you then?” I laugh.

  “Absolutely!” Catherine smiles.

  I take a long tug on my beer and stare into the fire again. The flames have retreated somewhat, and I debate whether to throw another log into the mix.

  “Shall we go and join the girls? I’m getting a bit chilly,” Catherine asks as if she has read my mind and decided for me.

  “Yes,” I reply, getting to my feet and holding my hand out to help Catherine up. She stumbles as she rises and I catch her in my arms, pulling her tight into me.

  “My knight in shining armour,” Catherine says looking up to me.

  “You stumbled on purpose, didn’t you?” I challenge, grinning at her.

  “Who, me?” Catherine smiles, her full lips glistening in the flickering light of the fire.

  “Yes, you,” I say, moving in to put my lips to hers. I still find it hard to believe that I am actually kissing Catherine after so many years of admiring her beauty from afar. The two of us is the only positive thing I can think of to come out of the last horrific few days. I almost feel guilty for finding something so precious when so much has been lost.