Dead Frost - 02 (9 page)

That did it.
People hushed their neighbours more vehemently, and they listened.

'That's better,'
the captain said. 'Now, as most of you know, I have been trying to
keep this place going as best as I can...safe, guarded. I have been
bringing food in so that we all eat, and I have been trying to obtain
medicine for the sick.'

As if to emphasise
just how sick some people were, there came a chorus of coughs.
Victor had to wait for a few moments before he could continue.

'Now, I think that
I have been fair, and helpful, and taken care of everything that it
has been within my power to do. But a few people, who if you look
around you will notice are no longer with us, have decided to strike
out on their own, make a run for it, so to speak.'

A cacophony of
shocked gasps filled the room, and Victor Lord knew that he still had
his people, or the majority of them.

'Now, people, I
wouldn't have given two shits had they decided to go in the middle of
the night. Everybody has the right to decide their own fate, and
that goes for all of you standing before me, now. But these people,
these...assholes, took something that we believe is vital to the
well-being of this here group.'

The survivors were
rapt; a few of them yelled towards the front of the room, outraged by
the audacity of the deserters. Typically these were males,
forty-to-fifty, general scumbags who didn't want to have to lift a
finger to maintain the camp, and it was beginning to sound like they
might have to.

'One of our Jeeps
has been taken,' Victor continued. 'These sonsofbitches decided to
just up sticks in the middle of the fucking night. Now, I have no
idea where they are going, but I can ensure you that we will find
them, and bring back our truck.'

There were a few
cheers, but nowhere near as many as Victor had hoped for. Once the
dire applause died down, a voice spoke from the back of the room.
Victor didn't even need to look to know who it was.

'And what are you
going to do with the people?' Maggie Cox asked, exhaling a plume of
bluey-grey smoke into the atmosphere. 'You gonna be bringing them
back, too?' She already knew the answer to that, which is why she
had wanted to bring it to the attention of the others.

'Do you think they
deserve a second chance?' Victor asked. God, how he hated that
mummified old sow. 'They have taken something that is vital to this
group. Their selfish actions could cause deaths, could kill all of
us.'

Maggie huffed and
stubbed her cigarette out on the doorframe to her right. 'You and I
both know that that is not the truth,' she said, her voice hoarse.
'We have more vehicles, and we have that whirly-bird up on the roof.
You have absolutely no reason to go running after them other than
revenge.' She lit another cigarette and smiled smugly to herself.
The survivors turned back to Victor and awaited his response
silently.

He laughed, a
nervous chuckle that made him look stupid and inept; God, how he
fucking hated that rotting bitch.

'I assure
all
of you that revenge is not what I am after. These people have
forfeited their rights, as far as I am concerned, and I want to make
sure that they realise just how much danger they have placed all of
you in.'
That's right
, Victor thought.
Lay it on thick,
get the crowd back vying for blood.

'Do you even know
where they have gone?' Maggie called, stepping forward between two
dome-tents. 'They could be anywhere by now; you're talking about
going out after them as if you know which direction they're pointed
in. Shit, Captain, just how dumb are you?'

'Now you just watch
your tongue,' Victor said, sensing that the woman was intentionally
trying to make him look moronic. 'We know they left this morning,
early, and that snow out there is going to tell us just which fucking
direction they've gone in. Their tracks will still be visible from
the helicopter.'

'And you're going
to bring them back here when you reach them?' she reiterated.

Victor paused,
tried to think of a way around it, then said, 'If that's what you
people want, then I'll make sure that no harm comes to them.'

'I couldn't give a
shit,' one man said near the front of the assembly. 'They've made
their beds. I say, let them sleep in 'em.'

Victor nodded
towards the man, who he didn't recognise in the slightest. 'You
see,' he said to Maggie. 'These people know what their rights are.
They trust me to do right by them, and I will not fail them.'

A few cheers from
the side of the room; once again, the lumberjack contingency.

'These people are
being fed lies,' Maggie said, trembling a little now. 'You've put
the fear of God into them and now they trust you implicitly. Just so
you know, Mr High-And-Mighty, I will not be part of any schemes you
put forward. I don't trust you one bit, and I want everyone here to
listen to me.' She sucked hard on the cigarette, struggling to keep
it steady in her trembling, gnarled hand. 'This is wrong. Going
after them is wrong. We all know what he's going to do to them when
he catches up. It's murder, plain and simple, and whichever way you
sugar-coat it it's fucked up.' She glanced around the room to all
the faces, young and old, staring in her direction. She could tell
that her words were having little or no impact. Without another
utterance, she turned and left through the doors, the sound of the
mumbling assembly behind her.

'Well, that was
special,' Victor said, victorious. She'd made herself look like a
crazy, old witch – perhaps that was being too kind, and
offensive to witches everywhere. 'Now, I don't know how long we're
to be gone,' he continued, glad to see that the focus had returned to
him. 'But I assure you all that we will be back, with the Jeep, and
a shitload of supplies and medicine. You have my word.'

The applause that
followed was deafening. Victor Lord was on the verge of actually
bowing, as if he had just finished a masterful stage performance on
Broadway.

He made his way
down and out through the doors, survivors patting him on the back as
he went. Once out of earshot, he turned to David Moon and said, 'Is
the pilot ready?'

Moon nodded.
'Yeah, but he ain't in the best fucking mood about all of this.'

'Ahhh, I don't give
a shit whether he's crying his eyes up. Get him onto the roof, and
tell Randall to load the weapons.'

Moon nodded and
raced off up the stairs. Victor approached another of his men, Henry
Colburn, and pushed his face as close as possible without touching
him.

'If that old trout
were to cease breathing while we're gone,' he said, 'then I think a
promotion would be the order of the day.'

Colburn thought for
a moment before a grin crept onto his face. 'I sure wouldn't mind
that, at all,' he said.

'Gooooood,' Victor
grinned. 'I'm leaving you in charge for the next few days; I don;t
think it should be too much of a problem, not with a man of your
tenacity.'

Colburn didn't know
what that word meant, but assumed it was something good. 'Everything
will be just as you left it,' he said. 'Apart from one thing.'

Victor laughed,
knowing that Colburn meant it and would not let him down.

'Time to go get my
fucking Jeep back.'

TWELVE

The morning
hadn't come quick enough, as far as she was concerned. The snow must
have started soon after she had arrived back at the house, though,
and she hadn't been able to see out of the windows due to the panels
that had been hammered haphazardly over them. She was shocked,
therefore, to discover at least six inches of white powder as she
left the house.

It was nice.

It would have
been a helluva lot nicer if the undead weren't returning with a taste
for human flesh, but you couldn't have everything your own way, could
you?

She left the
house with more layers than she needed. It was better that way.
There was always the option to remove a layer, whereas she would be
fucked if the temperature plummeted even more.

She headed
across the field and into the town, knowing that the creatures would
probably be around at some point. The difference now was: She could
see them properly. It was easier evading them – or hunting
them – when the sun was up, and the snow made it even easier as
she would hear their footfall before she would even spot them.

She had a
problem, though.

The house was no
longer somewhere she felt safe; she wanted more, something bigger, a
place where there was more than just a window and a plank of MDF
separating them from her. There seemed to be a lot more of them
hovering around the field after dark, and she had no idea why.

It was only a
matter of time before they began to go to work on the windows and
doors; her sanctuary was no longer invulnerable. Add to that the
fact that there was no heating – and the snowfall had made her
wonder just how cold it was going to get in the following weeks –
and she knew she had to find somewhere new to hold out.

Trudging through
the snow with just a tiny backpack, she reached the outskirts of town
feeling quite refreshed. Apparently, a bean supper washed down with
strawberry-flavoured water did wonders to the system. She felt like
she could run, perhaps for the first time in days.

She just hoped
that it wouldn't be necessary.

After a quick
break and a sip of water – normal, tasteless water – she
pushed on, following the signs at every junction.

The snow was
falling heavy, once again, and she remembered the Christmases past
when things had been normal – or at least a little bit more
regular – and the snow had fallen outside the window. She
pushed the memories away, though, as she came across a large
building.

Surrounded by a
black, wrought-iron fence on all sides, it looked to be the kind of
place where British Royalty might visit. The golden finials sitting
atop the gate added to the regal look. She stared down the long,
winding driveway, trying to figure out what the place was. She had
never seen it before, but then again she had never ventured out to
this side of the town.

There was no way
in, at least not from where she stood, gathering snow. The fence
snaked around the building, shutting it off from the world.

It was perfect.

It was exactly
what she had been hoping for.

After walking
the fence-perimeter, she located what appeared to be the main
entrance. Whatever this place was, it was intended for visitors.
There were small signs just off the driveway; one pointed to the
large door at the front and announced: Museum Entrance, while another
directed you to the back of the building, where apparently there was
a cafeteria and public toilets.

Museum.

She walked the
driveway. Despite the increasing inches of snow, gravel crunched
underfoot. She kept a close eye on her surroundings, making sure
that there were no creatures following. She could hear a few off in
the distance, somewhere behind her, but they were far enough away to
be considered no threat.

The door was
closed but not locked. She pushed through it and found herself
standing in a remarkable foyer. She had seen elephants up close on
many occasions, but she had never seen one in skeletal form until
now. It was amazing. Standing right there, probably to greet the
visitors and announce the amazing things to come, it looked as if it
had been stripped of its flesh and skin where it stood.

The door clunked
shut behind her, and she found the latch which would offer her a
little bit of safety. With the door secure for now, she moved from
the foyer – and that magnificent beast of bone – and into
the first room.

The first thing
she noticed was the change in temperature. The foyer had been cold,
almost as cold as outside, but this room was nice, warm, comfortable.
It meant that the heating was still working which, in itself, made
her instantly ecstatic. Light poured down from the three
expensive-looking chandeliers. So, she had warmth, she had light,
and she knew that somewhere in the building there would be food. The
sign on the driveway had pointed the way to a cafeteria, but she
didn't want to rely on the food there; sandwiches would be no good,
and cakes and fancies were probably just as useless. Maybe there was
a freezer, but that was something she would concern herself with at a
later time. For now, she knew exactly what she had to survive on.