The Long Walk Home by Keen A.M

Author:Keen, A.M. [Keen, A.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Tags: Horror | Zombie
ISBN: 9781785387869
Publisher: Acorn Books
Published: 2017-11-07T05:00:00+00:00

Six

Captain Cardell joined his friend and colleague Sergeant Hopkins on the lookout platform overseeing the once bustling sports complex. The summer night felt cool but pleasant. Hopkins carried the rifle as his captain lit a cigarette.

“Why do you do it?” the sergeant asked as Cardell expelled grey mist into the air.

“What?”

“This. Lookout duty and all the other hands on stuff? You’re the leader of this camp, you don’t need to do it.”

“I’m setting an example for my men,” he replied before taking another drag. “Soldiers respect a superior who gets his hands dirty. With this new world now upon us, I don’t want to give a reason to anyone who might try and start a mutiny.”

A few infected had found their way to the gates of the stadium, but none paid any attention to their surroundings as they staggered like drunkards across the complex.

Cardell scoured the darkness illuminated in patches by flood lights that still worked. The monotonous, low drone of a thousand voices emerged from across the distance.

“You hear that?” Cardell asked, reaching to the platform to grab a pair of binoculars.

“Yes. You often find herds of the brain dead wandering along the road up there. Few manage to turn and head on to the complex. Most seem to stumble their way towards the industrial estate.”

“No, not that. I hear something else within the voices.” Cardell made out a rattling, metallic groan as though some kind of mass vehicle had taken to the road.

Hopkins nodded. “Now you mention it, yeah, I do hear something.”

“It sounds like…” Cardell scoured the road. There it was. “A Challenger 2.”

Heading toward them appeared one Challenger 2, a standard battle tank used by the army. The vehicle rattled and clunked as its tracks rotated, pushing the vehicle onward. Behind the army vehicle a mass of brain dead followed.

“I don’t believe it,” Hopkins said as the tank drew closer. “Is that ours?”

“Has to be. No one else has access to these.”

“You want me to open the gates?”

Cardell shook his head. “No. Play it safe for the time being.”

The Challenger turned onto the car park and approached the stadium. Masses of brain dead followed.

“Shit,” Hopkins blurted, “they’re following it.”

“Take your stations!” Cardell yelled, rallying his troops. A mass of footfalls thudded to life as each soldier adopted their specified position. All area weaknesses became covered by guns. The Challenger rattled to a standstill a few feet from the stadium gates.

Cardell peered on, waiting for something to happen. After a moment, the hatch squeaked and rose upward. Cardell frowned. Standing from inside the tank a dirty faced clown appeared. His head bore no hair. Piercings littered his ears and nose. His torso hid behind a faux fur coat. Its sleeves had been removed exposing the clown’s tattooed skin on both arms. The face paint strewn across his features had been smudged and distorted. Cardell believed black lips and eye sockets had existed there at one time. The clown looked to them without uttering a word.

“Well, this is uncomfortable,” Hopkins said, breaking the silence.

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