Going in, it’s obvious that Dan’s having some trouble with the staff. I walk up behind him and two of his men who are flanking him, including Ian. The staff are asking some very valid questions about what is going on, arguing different points about the situation. Dan’s doing his best to put their minds at ease, but we haven't got time for this.
I turn, going over to one of the vending machines, its lights displaying all the confectionary delights inside through the large plate glass window. I nod to Kev, another one of the lads, as I walk; he too is freshly kitted out with the new firepower and armour.
I reach the machine, raising my rifle to head height and then I bring the rifle down, swiftly smashing it through the display glass. The sound rings out around the canteen and the glass shatters into thousands of safe little pieces. Then I scrape the rifle around the edge, dislodging most of the remaining glass that is hanging on.
Turning to my left, I go over to the second machine which this time vends sandwiches and other savoury snacks and do the same. The noise seems even louder now everyone is silent.
“Listen up!” I shout, turning to face the staff. “There is a shit storm just the other side of the glass out there and it’s trying to smash its way in here to attack us. We need to get all the supplies up to the sixth floor as quickly as possible. Load all that you can into the lifts and get it up there. Once that is done, we will be moving to the higher floors and locking this floor down. Questions and discussions can be done once we are off this floor. If you have a problem with that, you are welcome to sit where you are and stay down here, but if you are with us, get up and get your arses into gear. Do as my men tell you to get this done. You can start with these vending machines but be careful not to cut yourselves on the broken glass.”
The eight stunned staff at the table get up en masse ready to help, and Dan starts to give them all their tasks.
Ian and Paul Deep, known as Digger, stand with Dan and are about to start getting supplies together themselves. But I call them over and tell them to go and see Steve for further instructions.
I know Digger well and these two are more than capable of helping cover and, if necessary, defend the front. They move out without question. I’m not their superior officer and not even their boss anymore in these circumstances, but they know all too well the need for a chain of command in a combat situation. Without one, things can go to shit extremely quickly.
I then go over to Kev and ask him to go and round up the other guys who will be watching the perimeter in the other rooms on this floor, and get them to help with the supplies.
My radio sounds, “Andy, over.”
“Yes Stan, over,” I reply, walking to Dan.
“I’m at Tactical. I have eyes on and am standing by. Your daughter and everyone are fine, and they are expecting you up here soon, over.”
“Understood, Stan. We are loading the supplies now. Inform me immediately if there’s any change outside the building, over.”
“Affirmative, Andy, over and out.”
Dan is just finishing with the last of the staff when I get over to him.
“Sorry about the theatrics, mate,” I say to Dan who is looking pretty exasperated.
“But things aren’t looking good out the front.”
“No apology required, Boss. It did the trick, nice touch smashing the glass too, that hit home with them. Bleeding civilians don’t like taking orders, do they.”
“No, they bloody don’t, mate,” I say rolling my eyes. “I’ve sent Ian and Digger out to cover the front with Steve, and Kev is getting the other men together to help in here where they will be of more use. Stan is watching the building perimeter and will radio if there are any other threats.”
“Okay, Boss, think you’re right, I have a bad feeling we haven’t much time. Those fuckers are going to be in here soon, whether we’ve cleared out or not,” Dan says, his hands gripping his M4 tightly.
Trying to relax Dan slightly, I tell him, “We have got through the crap before, mate, with hostiles that shot back. That bunch of zombies out there should be a breeze for hardened combat soldiers like us, even if we are veterans now,” I half smile.
“At least before, they went down when we shot them and didn’t try to chow down on us. But you’re right, it’ll be a piece of piss,” Dan says, half smiling too.
“Yes, good point, mate. Right, I’m going to see how it’s looking up front. You want to go and check on them in the kitchen?”
Turning, Dan says, “Will do.”
Two of the staff members are unloading the first of the vending machines into a large battered cardboard box. I recognise one of them as Jill from the data processing department. She must have been on the early shift this morning. She has children, but I can’t remember how many; she must be worried to death. To be fair, it’s no wonder the staff are anxious and were giving Dan a hard time. They must all be worried sick about loved ones, whether they are safe and if they are ever going to see them again.
Outside the canteen, the sun is streaming into the foyer. A couple more covering positions have been set up. Steve, Digger and the other lad, one I don’t know, are all set up at their positions, but Ian is over by the main window. Mick is still over to the right, and I walk quickly over to see him and to check
