The Battle at Jubilee Beach. Pt 2.

While everybody had no choice but to wait for Gobby to take care of business in the aquarium I found myself wanting to be in there with them.
Not to help them or assist in any way but just to watch.

The sheer volume of carnage that this mouthy, skinny walking ASBO and his other half could cause with their tiny little blades was seriously impressive.
They would work around each other like well-practised dance partners, plunging their twist knives into eye sockets, temples, necks, and then withdrawing the blade with the twisting, gouging flourish that not only caused the real damage and the odds-on demise of the unfortunate ghoul but it was this technique that gave this quirky little weapon it's name.

Everybody carried a twist knife as a secondary weapon but these two border-line psychos were the only ones who dared to use them as their main attack tool.
They are ideal for closed in spaces and and in-your-face combat and that's why I chose the Suicidal Fucks for pre-clearance on this particular venture.

Fifteen minutes after the we heard the window of the aquarium smash Gobby came over the two-way,
"Come in, Bolo."
"Receiving, Gobby." I replied.
"Yeah, this fucking place is a graveyard now mate, eh, and they won't be getting back up this time."
"All zeds despatched?" I asked him.
"Every fucking last one mate. Had a few fucking crawlers but that's all part of the fun, ain't it."
"Alright lads" I said, "Stay put, cover the cafeteria window and we'll drop Rampage of to you soon, okay?"
"Sweet mate, sweet." he answered.
"Rampage, you receiving?" I asked down the radio.
"Yeah Cool, everybody's zipped up and ready to go.
"Okay. Close the back doors. Give them a bit of a tug cos they're pretty stiff and hold on. We're taking you over to Gobby."
"Cool." He replied.
I quickly checked on Spook with through my binoculars, he had his eye on the advancing zeds Shotgun Trevor broke his 12gauge, popped the cartridges out and sat down on the roof of the van. I slung my binocs round my neck and sat down too and we held on to the metal bars that Tongs had welded to the roof a couple of clearances ago.
Wanker was driving and once I made sure Trevor was happy I called down to him.
"Ready when you are Wanker."
"Righto" said Wanker and he started the engine and set us rolling down the promenade towards the aquarium.

We pulled up to the shattered window where Gobby was waiting for us. A zed, about 40 yards away let out a hellish moan as he saw us pull up. I knew Wanker wouldn't have the angle so instead "Mr Full-Bore. Do you have a visual at 2 o'clock?"
I heard the click-clack of the action of his .22 semi, the zombie's head kicked back slightly and he crumpled to the floor.
"Not any more." he said, solemnly.
I ducked down on the roof of the van so I could see Gobby in the cafeteria. They were surrounded by the corpses of the recently re-deceased.
With too many zeds advancing on Spook and his team this was no time for back-slapping.
"Get on your bikes Gobby, get up to South end and get those fucking zeds away from Spook. okay?"
"Yeah." said Gobby. He must have sensed the urgency as he hopped out the window and started his bike up without saying another word.
I flicked the two-way, "Rampage, get you and your team out and get some fresh air."
I heard his muffled voice below me and the back doors opened with him and his team stepping out into the bright morning sun. Most were wiping sweat of their brows and looking flushed so I let them enjoy the fresh sea air for a couple of minutes before sending them into the cafeteria and out of sight of the main drag.
"Right Mo," I said to Rampage "We're going center now and we'll let you know when it's time.
I called down to my driver "Time to go Wanker. Center stage."
We moved off. I checked through my binocs to see Spook and his team already in battle with the first dozen zeds which they dispatched inside 10 seconds with well practised techniques.
Over the two-way I congratulated him- "Nicely done, Spook.". And he raised his thumb to me as his team dragged the bodies away from the doorway of the toilets. "Phase three as planned," I told him "So when Gobby gets to you, get yourself back into the toilets, out of sight and wait for the word. Over."
"Understood, Bolo." replied Spook.
We pulled up equidistant between the toilets and the aquarium, me and Shotgun Trevor on top of the van with Wanker and Mr Full-Bore sitting tight in the front, windows up and doors locked, while we watched Gobby starting Phase 3.
They were doing exactly as planned, riding up and down the sand making more noise than Hell itself and gaining the attention of every dismembered and disembowled reeker within a half-mile radius.
Before we'd even pulled up more zeds were starting to show, crawling out from under cars, shuffling out from chip shops and restaurants, arcades and casinos. I estimated 25-30 now but it was still early days. I was hoping that this would be the lot but I didn't believe. And as it turned out, I couldn't have been more wrong.

After Gobby had done a couple of passes the rotters were coming out in force. Even over the noise of the bikes we could hear their moans. It's a noise you never get used to.
(I remember a couple of weeks after the Outbreak me and Wanker were scavenging a pharmacy, we were doing our best to keep quiet and out of sight but this old boy collared us mid-loot. He must've been 70 plus originally and he looked like he would've been a pretty healthy fellow but now he only had half a face, his throat was torn out, his gut opened up.
He was coming for us with this horrible gurgling noise coming from his throat which would've had us soiling our pants at that stage, but every time he came for us he'd fall flat on his face. He was tripping over his own guts! He'd get up, take a couple of steps, get his feet tangled again and- thud, he'd go down again. Me and Wanker couldn't help ourselves and were damn near pissing ourselves with laughter.
Up he'd get, 2 or 3 steps, thud, up, steps, thud. And this is how he kept coming, it was fucking hilarious! We had to go, but I didn't have the heart to top him off, the poor sod. We just stepped over him the next time he went down and carried on our merry way, laughing like drinking buddies.
The sights of the Armageddon, you can get used to. But not the sounds. Next time, after you've survived another heavy battle and all's gone well but you can't shift that dirty, un-named feeling in your gut and your head, trust me- it's the sound of a billion tortured souls that will be sticking in your throat.)
With the moans came the zombies. They were stumbling down the streets and along the promenade with more coming out of the surrounding buildings. I didn't need the binocs to see the extent of the Squads nonchalance.
I'd be surprised if those chicken-shit fuckers had even fired a fucking shot. How the Hell could they have missed so many?
On a usual clearance we'd be unfortunate enough to have a hundred zeds to deal with but today, here and now, there must have been at least that and there were more still appearing.

This was bad.
The plan was a good one, I had faith in my teams. We'd do just fine. No-one will get hurt and everyone will live to fight another day.
With the possible exception of myself.

The Suicidal Fucks were hammering it up and down the beach over and over and over again luring the undead onto the sand and skilfully avoiding the one's that had already made it onto the main strip.
We watched as the zeds would shuffle after the two bikes, arms outstretched, teeth bared hoping to snag a free lunch. Then Gobby would go racing past to the other end and all the zeds would stumble over themselves trying to catch them on the way past. Then they'd try to follow them to the other end just for it to happen all over again.
Any other day and I would've laughed at the sight of it.
"Keep it up, Gobby," I said down the two-way, "There's plenty of them today."
I saw him stop at the South end and thumb his radio, "Don't fucking worry about us, yeah, we're well alright." and he was off again. And the undead kept coming.

After a further 20 minutes I couldn't see any more creeping out of the morning shadows and I was definate that that was it.
"That's your lot, Gobby, just get them on to the beach." I called.
Gobby carried on riding but raised his hand in the air to indicate an affirmative. After another half-hour there were at least two hundred walking corpses all stumbling about the beach with another 30 or so stragglers yet to make it up the slip way and on to the sand.
This was more than we'd ever had to fight before and at this point I was seriously concerned for the closest thing I had now to "family".
Both teams were out of sight and had no way of knowing the magnitude of what they were shortly to face.
"Rampage, receiving?" I called.
"Go ahead, Cool." came the reply.
"Spook, receiving?"
"Yes, Bolo."
"Listen up, you two." I told them "This is big today. Estimated force of two hundred to two-fifty zeds." I paused for a second to let that little nugget sink in, "Let your people know what we've got here but keep them composed, okay? The plan is a good one and we'll have you covered at all times. Put your fittest fighters front and center, okay? This is big but it's do-able. Do you copy, Rampage?" I asked.
"Shit, man. Let's do this." he snarled.
"Spook do you copy?"
"No problem, Bolo." he replied, as collected as ever.
"Okay, final preps fellas. Over and out."

The last of the walking dead had made it on to the beach now with no more late comers. The moans were hideous and deafening and looking at the mutilated bodies of these shambling corpses you wouldn't have believed that there were so many ways to destroy the form of a human.
Gobby and his mate had done a fucking astounding job of keeping them all pretty much central but it was time for the final round up before Phase 4.
I pressed the radio's mic button, "Gobby, come in." I called.
His annoyance was obvious, "You better be giving me some fucking good news, Bolo, yeah?" he spat down the radio, "This fucking bollocks is taking too fucking long and we're fucking knackered, eh."
"You've done a good job so far, Gobby," I said. He was getting shitty again and I had to keep him in a happy mood. "Not long now, mate, but it's time for the final round up, okay?"
"Whoopee-fucking-doo." he replied and I saw him wave his hand in a circular motion, signalling to his co-rider.
The both of them started riding round the herd in ever tightening circles, forcing the zeds into a tighter pack. One of the herd would try it's luck every now and again and try to grab Gobby or his mate as they rode past but they would just raise a foot and boot them back in to the pack again.
This tactic was working better than I'd hoped and even though we were facing a huge number of hostiles I started to believe myself that we would come out of this on top.

"Gobby, Rampage, Spook, do you receive?" I asked.
"Fucking right, yeah?"
"Go ahead, Cool."
"Yes, Bolo."
And I told them what they all wanted to hear- "Go to Phase 4. Over."