The underground base was located some thirty miles outside the city and they had already travelled almost two thirds of the distance. Although increasingly unsure of its precise location, Cooper did remember the names of the villages nearby and was fairly confident of finding his way there again. The complex was buried in a remote and inconspicuous area of land. By its very nature it was always going to be difficult to find.
The sound of a truck’s horn cut through the otherwise still morning air. Donna turned and peered through the back window of the van. A short distance behind them Steve Armitage had slowed down and was flashing his lights furiously.
‘Shit,’ Cooper cursed, slamming on the brakes and bringing the van to a sudden stop.
‘What is it?’ Jack Baxter asked anxiously.
‘Don’t know,’ Cooper replied. ‘Can’t see the other truck.’
Baxter opened the door and jumped out of the van and ran back down the road towards the first truck. He climbed up onto the driver’s footplate. Armitage wound the window down to speak to him.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked, wiping spitting rain from his face.
Armitage gestured over his shoulder.
‘They’re stuck,’ he said simply. ‘I think I clipped the side of a car and dragged it out into his way.’
Baxter peered further down the road. Armitage was right. The back of the truck had become entangled with the wreck of a car and had somehow tugged it out across the narrow stretch of road which the convoy had been moving along. Cooper suddenly appeared at his side.
‘Too much noise. Kill the engine,’ he said to Armitage who quickly did as he was told. The soldier silently surveyed the scene. ‘He’ll have to smash his way through. There’s no other way of getting through and we can’t afford to leave either of the trucks behind. We’re tight enough on space as it is.’
Armitage nodded.
‘This lot are beginning to suffer,’ he said quietly, nodding his head towards the back of the truck. The vehicle hadn’t been designed to carry as many passengers as it was carrying this morning. The survivors and their belongings were crammed into an uncomfortably tight space.
‘I’ll tell Croft,’ Cooper said. ‘Get back to the van, Jack.’
Baxter wasn’t listening.
‘Jesus Christ,’ he mumbled.
‘What’s the matter?’ Cooper asked.
Baxter didn’t reply. Instead he simply pointed at the vast column of stationary vehicles next to them. Cooper followed the older man’s line of vision and immediately saw what it was that had attracted his attention. Unable to open the doors of their crashed vehicles or even to escape from the confines of their safety belts, every wreck contained at least one body. Whilst some were unmoving, many others were thrashing around in their seats, trapped but trying desperately to get out and reach the survivors standing at the side of the road. At first appearing motionless and still, the longer that Cooper and Baxter stared into the endless line of crashed traffic, the more frantic movement they could see.
‘Bloody hell…’ Baxter muttered.
‘Get moving, Jack,’ Cooper ordered. He pushed Baxter back towards the van while he began to sprint further down the road towards the stranded truck. Even from a distance he could hear its engine straining and groaning as Phil Croft tried desperately to force his way through the blockage. As he ran the soldier gestured for Croft to reverse back down the motorway. He knew that they needed to move quickly. To his right was a steep embankment and beyond that several fields and an out-of-town shopping complex. He could see numerous shadowy bodies making their way away from the dark buildings and advancing across the fields with ominous speed towards the motorway disturbance.
Croft stopped the truck and Cooper shouted to him.
‘Just put your fucking foot down,’ he screamed. ‘You’ve got to try and smash your way through.’
‘I’m sorry, I’m not used to driving anything this big. I don’t know how far I can push it…’
‘Shut up and do it!’ Cooper yelled. ‘Worry about it when it goes wrong, not before.’
The bodies in the field were close. The nearest few were beginning to clamber up the embankment. Noticing that Cooper appeared agitated and distracted by something out of his vision, Croft did as he was told. Ignoring the terrified screams and moans from the back of the truck he moved forward again and accelerated faster and faster. He smashed into the wrecked car which blocked his way, trapping it under his bumper. It dragged and scraped along the road for a few seconds before working its way loose and tumbling down the embankment. Free to move again, Croft edged towards the back of the other truck and waited for Cooper to scramble back to the van at the front of the convoy.
In less than a minute they were moving again.
The stretch of motorway where they had stopped was suddenly swarming with bodies.
49
As grimy-grey daylight gradually crept across another cold, wet and foreboding morning, so Cooper’s orientation and recollection slowly returned. Landmarks and familiar place names helped crystallize his thoughts and reassure him that he was leading the survivors in the right direction. They passed through a lifeless village which he clearly remembered. Empty and dead for more than a month, many of the cottages and homes which lined the main street had been burned to the ground, others were charred and scarred by smoke, dirt and decay.
Sudden movement surrounded the convoy as the noise of their engines caused nearby bodies to emerge from the shadows and surge towards the road. Their reactions still relatively slow, the bulk of the bodies did not appear until the vehicles had passed by. A lone corpse, however, stumbled into the road a short distance ahead of the van. Cooper accelerated and obliterated the creature with a brief moment of effort and no consideration or remorse whatsoever.
Through the village and back out onto an empty and exposed country road which twisted and turned precariously as it worked its way between fields and hills. The narrow road began to climb a steep gradient. Now sure of his surroundings, Cooper turned the steering wheel to the right and sent the van careering down an even narrower track which sloped downwards and which was virtually invisible from the road. With his heart in his mouth Steve Armitage followed, slowly coaxing the cumbersome prison truck down the track whilst, at the same time, taking care not to lose sight of the soldier ahead. Armitage was used to driving trucks. The doctor driving the third vehicle was not. His pulse raced and his hands were moist with nervous sweat.
‘Fucking hell,’ he snapped as his truck began its unsteady descent. The height of the bonnet in front of him mean that he drove the first few feet virtually blind. More through luck than judgement he managed to keep the vehicle on course.
The track straightened out quickly, running below but parallel with the road. Donna sat in the back of the van and wondered just how many hidden routes like this existed. They would never have found this place if they hadn’t had the soldier with them. If he had chosen to stay behind in the city then they’d have been forced to do the same. Whether the others liked it or not, each one of them owed Cooper a debt of gratitude.
A hairpin right quickly followed by another steep descent and then the track suddenly cut across a wide field buried deep within a steep and otherwise inaccessible valley. The shadows of huge protective hills reared up on either side. Donna felt safer already.