Jubilee Beach. Part 2.

I suppose, upon reflection, calling the first post "Part 1" could've been a little misleading.
I'm not an author or a playwrite and I don't want this all to sound like a story.
This shit happened and will continue to happen until the numbers start to swing in the favour of the living.

Still, I suppose if you're tucked up in your cosy government bunker with a lifetime's supply of replenishable supplies with nothing more to worry about than getting out of your bunk for a shit then this "story" could be quite entertaining for you.
Conversely, if you've got nothing in your heart but fear and darkness and this is the only thing to distract you from the very real Hell on Earth, then this "story" might inspire you to step into the light with a tool in your hand and try to fight for a future. Even if it means you won't live to see it.

Mostly though, I want those to see it that are in the same position as myself and my komrades- fighting for the innocent, civilian detritus that the military just don't have the time, patience or inclination to try to protect any more.

If anyone can get any knowledge or advice from these posts to help them survive until the tide turns then that's all I can honestly hope for.
Therefore, maybe I shouldn't have called it "Part 1". Maybe it should have been "Jubilee Beach, the transmission." or something similar.

Either way, this is the account of "Jubilee Beach. The Plan." or "Part 2", if you prefer...

After appeasing Tongs (to a certain degree, at least) that Nana would be more than capable of bringing the cabbages up to standard, I asked for Rampage and Spook to join myself and Wanker in the ready room.

Rampage was the first civilian I met after the Outbreak.
I say "met" but really I saved his life. He'll deny it, of course, but when you're surrounded by 20-odd zeds all looking to make you their evening meal and all you're armed with is a baseball bat, then trust me, you gonna need some help.

I remember, Wanker and I were driving. We don't know where to or what we were looking to do once we got there but we felt we had to get away from what we knew and, more importantly, from what we'd lost.
Anyway, we're driving and we see a group of these zeds all crowding round, grabbing and stumbling and doing all the instinctive, stupid shit they do when they've spotted something to eat, and in the middle of all this is this huge black fella with a baseball bat.
He's got one zed round the neck and he's throwing him around and using him as a shield as he smashes the skull of anything that tries to get near him.

We can both hear him shouting shit like "DIE MOTHERFUCKER!! #CRACK# "COME ON, BITCH!!" #CRUNCH# "I GOT THIS FOR YO ASS!!" #THUD# and lots of other equally colourful phrases as he smashed and swung his way through his opponents,and I tell you, he was doing a fucking good job of it too!
Still, 20 zeds is enough for anyone and much as I would've enjoyed just to sit back and watch this whirlwind of aggression crack some zed head I couldn't take the chance of him getting bitten.

I could tell he was a warrior and that's no way to go.

I told Wanker to keep the engine running and to load up his .17HMR.

"Pick off the ones on the left" I told him "If any more turn up and we can get a clear run, we'll be getting straight in and I want the wheels spinning before I've even closed the fucking door!".

"Righto." said Wanker.

I hopped out, un-sheathed my machete (just a standard one at that point as we hadn't met Tongs yet) and jogged over to this man-mountain just as he'd smashed another zed and bought himself a couple of seconds of breathing room.

"Need a hand, fella?" I asked with a smile.
"Fuck off, man. I got this" he snarled.

"Sorry bud" I said, as a couple of zeds turned in my direction, "Too late for that."

So there we were, side-by-side and fighting for the same cause without even knowing each other's name. We despatched the remaining zeds (14 in all, I think) in about 20 seconds and I turned back to the car.
He was just stood there, staring at the fallen and I got the impression that he didn't quite know what to do next.

"You coming, mate?" I asked him.
"Where?" he said.
"Don't know." I replied
".......cool".

So that was it.

It turns out his name is Maurice and not long after that, with a couple more battles under our belts "Mo" became my first choice to head the second team on clearance.

I told him once that he needed a call sign for comms. It had to be easily indentifiable over the two-ways and could be shouted easily over a melee.

"What the fuck's wrong with "Mo"!?" he snapped.
"Sounds too much like "No"." I said.
"And "Go"." chipped in Wanker.

So Wanker suggested "Jackson", as in Action Jackson. Mo fucking hated it!
"This ain't the fucking 80's, bitch! Not every black man is called fucking "Jackson"."

Of course then we had to suggest "Michael" (Jackson),
"Fuck you, bitch!" came that reply

We finally settled on "Rampage", not that he looks anything like Quentin "Rampage" Jackson (except in physical size, maybe) but it's a pretty fucking cool call sign to have and I reckon he's alright with that.

So.. back to the ready room-

I filled in Rampage and Spook about what the military were intending and what was required of us with our self-appointed "life mission".

This is the way the military work it- they set up an Outskirt Jungle for a town they plan to evacuate.
They evacuate the town with as little confrontation with the zeds as possible.
At the same time as the evacuation is happening they start on the building of a 6' high chain link fence around the town's perimeter. This isn't just one long fence though, instead it's basically sections of fence that block the gaps between the outermost buildings, so saving precious time and materials.

(This is a major fucking headache for us. It means that even if we knew the area before, a clear run-through that might have been relied on as an escape route could now be blocked at the other end.
Obviously a 6' fence is not insurmountable but try and climb it in full battle gear with a mob of groaning dumb-fucks bearing down on you and it's not likely to brighten up your day.)

After the fence is completed there is a 30 day "cooling off" period.

The military insist that this time is necessary to ensure that the town and all it's utilities are operational for re-habitation.
We reckon that this cooling off period is so that any straggling survivors that were missed in the original evac are added to the ranks of the undead by the zeds already populating the area.

Paranoia?

Maybe. But think about it.
A zombie takes one bullet.
A survivor would require medical care, supplies of clothing, food and water, not to mention the fact that any one of these Great Un-wanted could be the next voice of mutiny.

As far as the military is concerned, the fewer the better.

So, after the cooling off period the Squads are then sent in to mop up the zeds (or not, as we find out all too often...).

Finally, there's a two day wait while the logistics are sorted for re-habitation.

What this means to us is that we had one day to do a proper clean-up job for the sake of these poor souls and get out, numbers intact, before there was any danger of us running into the boys in black.

We had to make sure the seafront was clear of the undead.

It was as simple as that.