I force myself to put the ifs and buts about my condition to one side, at least for the time being. It will have to be investigated further; I don’t want to be a risk to anyone but now is not the time. My concentration has to be focused; I won’t change my tactics based on the possibility my smell may mask me from them. That sounds a sure way for my journey to come to a fatally quick end.
The path ahead is clear, and the hold point picked so I move, staying low, behind the sights of my rifle. Leaving a wide berth from the perimeter fence of Hyde Park, I follow its path along to the next cover behind a parked-up Audi. The car, hastily parked, skew-whiff to the curb on double yellow lines, is near one of the entrances to the park. Unbelievably, the car is sporting a parking ticket stuck to its windscreen. Obviously, the Zombie Apocalypse has not deterred the diligent parking attendants of London.
Moving down the side of the black car, on the park side, I reach the bonnet. Resting the M4 on top of the bonnet, I scan the area ahead. The battle in the distance is loud, unrelenting and drawing closer. In the distance, I spot a drone in the air. The unmanned aerial vehicle is much lower than it would normally fly, the pilot not having to worry about an attack from the ground.
The vehicle looks like it is circling, I assume, over the battle taking place ahead. Judging by the vehicle’s position, it looks like the fighting is taking place in Notting Hill Gate area, still a fair distance away. A streak of faint smoke emanates from the drone as it fires a missile down at the ground. I don’t see a flash or any evidence of the explosion from the missile, but a few seconds later a muffled boom travels through the air to me. I’m going to have to be careful as I approach that area, as the fighting is fierce; however, it is my best chance of joining up with the troops and I haven’t seen evidence of others.
Just as I go to move, I see something out of the corner of my eye again. This time, my brain isn’t fooled, and I react immediately. I drop down low, turning my back to the Audi, bringing the M4 down swiftly. Wandering out of the gate of the park, a Rabid emerges, as if it has just finished its morning walk. I quickly have it in my rifle’s sights, ready to shoot. The creature strolls onto the pavement and looks at me without stopping. A much smaller Rabid than my last encounter, the dishevelled creature carries on looking in my direction, not pausing its stroll. Amazingly, it takes little or no notice of me, no show of strength or aggression. In fact, it turns its head away. Totally nonplussed by my presence, it turns left and carries on its walk along the pavement, in the direction of the sound of fighting.
On the spur of the moment, I decide to try something and get to my feet. Keeping the back of the Rabids head in the M4’s sights. I let out a short sharp wolf whistle. The Rabid now does come to a stop and turns sideways to look at where the noise came from. Looking straight at me, the creature still shows no aggression, quickly loses interest and turns back to continue on its way.
Dipping the M4 to move the sights from my view, I study the creature for a moment. Can it really be true that they think I’m a Rabid? Whether it’s true or not, I can’t let this one carry on its journey. The beast is heading for the battle in the hopes of finding one thing, prey. I pull the rifle back up and shoot the Rabid in the back of its head in quick succession, before lowering it again as the Rabid falls into the gutter.
I go back down to take cover behind the Audi, the thought playing havoc with my mind. I’m overthinking it; my concentration’s been distracted from the task in hand. My head goes back and I take a breath, enjoying the slightly fresher air coming out of the park across from me. I look through the entrance into the park, attempting to remember one of the numerous times I’ve taken Emily in there on a weekend after I’ve had to ‘pop’ into work. I’m hoping the memory will focus my mind on what I need to do and where I’m going.
Another dark figure walking along the grass, some distance away and past the entrance, ruins any nostalgic memories my mind tries to conjure up, however.
GetmovingforChrist’ssake, I tell myself, there isn’t time for these delays. I force myself up, rescan the area and head to the next hold point, ignoring the dead Rabid I have to step around.
Events out of my control happen around me, as I cautiously continue along Bayswater Road. Rabids appear from every nook and cranny of the road, drawn out by the sound of fighting. They stumble out of the buildings that line the right side, many in a state of semi-coma and tripping over themselves if anything gets in their way, especially flights of stairs. I witness one emerge from a dark doorway at the top of a stone staircase.
