Living With Survival: Part 2
The Reclamation of Britain
The howls were piercing, but so were the thuds of the baseball bat. One last crashing blow to the head and the howling stopped. Jon stepped away from the corpse, took a long breath and exhaled. Wolvo had finished with his prey a few seconds prior, six lifeless infected in his path. "A few more dead in the name of her majesty" Tim said in a sarcastic tone. The three stood there in the abandoned factory, another battleground, another victory piled on the countless victories in the past few weeks. The infected were dwindling now, weak and starving, hardly even a battle at all.
Tims clown mask glistened with blood in the moonlight. They walked down Sheppard Street after leaving the factory. They kept alert, even now, at what seemed like the end of the reign of the infected. Wolvos baby face mask seemed perfectly clean; he made a habit of keeping it that way. Jon had acquired a hockey mask from a rundown costume shop, St Georges flag spray painted over the original colors. Jon knew now why they wore the masks. When you become more terrifying then the beast you're fighting, you don't fear it anymore. He had no fear any more. There was a feeling between the three men, like the end of the end had come, the infected were spent.
Another thing lay on their minds. The planes they began to see in the sky. The jet engine trails in the sky had become more frequent in the past few weeks. It signaled they weren't the only ones. But they were about to truly learn that soon enough.
"I'm starving after that little slice of ultraviolence, any one fancy three course dinner?" Wolvo was usually hungry. "What's on the menu?" Jon said cynically. "Tuna sandwich followed by two healthy servings of Tuna, finished up with half a Terrys chocolate orange" Tim knew the drill. "I wish we had some burgers" Jon sighed.
Wolvo chuckled to himself, but the laughing was cut dead when he saw what was up ahead. There were four of them. To say they looked like a swat team wouldn't do them justice. It was more like they once looked like a swat team. Gas masks covered their faces, ramshackle swat gear adorned with all sorts of grisly trophies. A necklace laced with fingers hung from their necks. One had a trio of small heads hanging from his waste, Jon could swear they were child like.
"What the fuck" Tim gave away a portion of the fear in his voice. Wolvo spoke up.
"Looks like we aren't the only freaks in town" he shouted towards the four. They stood silent, staring at them.
"Well I'm sure there were more freaks in town, seems the others are hanging from your costumes" Wolvo motioned his hammer towards the hand that was pinned to the chest of one of the swat team. All the while the swat team stood silent.
"Well, plenty of city for the both of us to hunt the infected. We'll be off" Tim butted in. " Lets go" he whispered back to the other two.
The swats then drew out their batons, they began banging slowly on their riot shields, both items had seen copious amounts of combat.
"I don't think they're hunting infected Tim" Jon said as he began to back away. The fear was back again. They had fought and killed many infected. These weren't infected, or at least they were still human, a twisted and sadistic version of humanity.
Jon was the first to turn and run. The two others followed. Even Wolvo was running for his life. You could learn the style of the infected; they became banal in their movements. The swat team gave chase. There was nothing familiar about these four, and the fact they outnumbered Tim, Jon and Wolvo was even more reason to get the hell out of there.
"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit" Jon chanted as he ran. The three ran through alleys and gardens. All the while heading towards their safe haven in their attic, but once they got in their sanctuary, what then? None of them cared right now. They ran until their hearts were beating a million miles an hour. The Swats were gaining on them, freakish fast, considering they wore so much armor. This wasn't their first hunt.
The three neared the attic. The heat inside of Jons mask was almost unbearable, but to take it off was to become weak again. The Swats remained silent during the chase, as if they were storing their fury for the catch, waiting until they could finally unleash themselves upon the three prey. Tim began to think it would soon be their heads hanging from the riot shield of these maniacs.
Tim got to the house first, tumbling through the back door and into the kitchen. They were up the stairs like lightning. Just as Wolvo slammed the attic door shut he saw the first of the Swats arrive behind them. Then all they could hear was movement. They were looking for something.
"We're fucked" Jon loudly whispered. Wolvo was to out of breath to talk. "What the fuck are we going to do?" Tim whispered.
The Swats found what they were looking for. A chair in which to stand on, they had reached the attic door. Then came a creaking sound. They were trying to pull the door open; the lock wouldn't last long against such brute strength.
"We just take them as they come in, one at a time" Wolvo panted. "You think they are that dumb to let us smash them on the head one at a time, they might have flash bangs or something" Jon said hopelessly.
The door was beginning to give way. "Well lads, it's been a pleasure. Long live The Three Masketeers and God save the fucking Queen" Wolvo said in a strained voice. Tim looked like a thunderbolt had hit him. "Queen" he whispered.
Tim darted to the corner of the room picking up the speakers of the stereo system they had set up. They never used it; it was more of a project for Tim when he was bored. He had hooked it up to a car battery. He placed the speakers next to a small hole in the side of the house they used sometimes to catch rain water from the comfort of their attic. "Hardly the time for fucking music Tim" Jon said angrily.
The door was almost off its hinges. Tim dived for the stereo player, flicking through a few tracks, pressing play on the one he deemed appropriate. First there was silence, then came the booming, almost deafening voice of Freddy Mercury
CAAAN ANYBODYYYYYYY FIIIIINDDD MEEEEE SOMEBODY TOOOOOO LOOOOOOVVVVEEE
The music was blasting from the attic, filling the streets around them. The Swats apparently didn't expect the sound of Queen. The siege stopped momentarily. Both attacker and defender stood in silence for a moment. All of them recalling times of music and joy. Tim smiled as he turned to the two "Here they come".
The infected were still dotted around London, weak and uncommon, but now they all headed towards this booming sound. The first of them arrived before The Swats even began trying to tear the door away again.
They made quick work of the first infected to arrive. But they kept coming. Then Swats weren't so silent anymore.
"Turn that fucking music off"
FIND ME SOMEBODY TO LOVE
"Oh Jesus there's dozens of them
FIND ME SOMEBODY TO LOVE
"They've got Roger, fuck they got his mask off"
FIND ME SOMEBODY TO LOVE
"Ahhhhhhh, oh my fucking hand "
CAN ANYBODY FIND MEEEEEEE
"AHHHHHHH, OHHHHH GODDD HELP ME, HELP ME, HELP ME"
SOMEBODY TO LOOOOOOOVVVEEEEEE
The massacre had ended with the song. Tim turned off the speakers. The dozens of infected below were reaching for the door. The Swats had been ripped to pieces. Now all that lay between the three and freedom was the infected below.
"I fucking love that song" Jon said
Then they heard a sound, soft at first but growing ever louder. Until it was finally deafening, it was outside their back garden. The infected scrambled over one another to get outside. When the house seemed empty, that's when machine gun opened up. The three ducked for cover, holding their ears as the sound of gun fire tore through the small army of infected outside.
Tim looked over to his brother Jon, cowering in the corner of the attic. His mask had fallen from his face. Its then Tim remembered that Jon was still a boy. They were all still boys really. What must have been a helicopter hovered above the house .
When the machine gun fire stopped. That's when the voice began, speakers sounded across the dead streets.
"Is there anybody alive in there" An American voice sounded across the speakers.
The three looked at one another. Dumb struck, unsure of what all this meant.
Wolvo got to his feet and pressed his head to the hole in the wall.
"Have you boys got a favourite song" He shouted
"Because we're now taking requests".