Fear the Dead (Book 3) (10 page)

Someone
screamed ahead of us. There were dark figures thirty metres away. Two men
dragged another one to a tree. His arms flailed and his feet dug into the
ground, but he wasn’t able to get any grip against the hardened mud. He shrieks
carried into the forest as they dragged him away.

13

The
blood-stained ropes and the man’s desperate screams told us everything. It
explained how Moe had been dealing with the stalkers. Thinking about it made my
stomach lurch. This couldn’t go on. I didn’t know exactly what I was going to
do yet, but I had to stop this.

Moe pinned
the man’s arms against the tree while another guy wrapped a cord of rope around
his waist. The man thrashed against the ropes. I turned away and looked at the
frost encrusted mud on the ground. I didn’t want to see the man’s face.

“Think about
my kids, Moe. What are they gonna do?”

“You should
have thought about that, you sick son of a bitch. Now quit begging.”

The man
struggled like a dog tearing at a leash. He kicked out and landed a boot in the
groin of the man who tied him, who bent over and wheezed. The tied-up man
lurched forward and tried to snap the bonds that held him to the tree, but the
rope was too thick. Moe stepped back, raised a hand and gave him a slap that
echoed in the silent forest.

The man’s
shoulders sagged. He leant his head back, dazed. Moe slapped him again.

“If Deb
wanted you in her tent, she’d have invited you in,” said Moe.

The man
looked up. The red prints of Moe's hand marked his pale cheeks. “I didn’t do a
fucking thing,” he said.

“No, but you
were going to.”

The man
bared his teeth, his face screwed up like an animal. “Who gave you the moral
high ground?”

Moe grinned,
a sick twisting of his lips that spread across his wrinkled face. “You don’t
need moral high ground when you’re sat on the throne.”

He pulled
his hand back and clenched it into a fist. He smashed it into the man’s nose,
sent blood spraying out.

“That’s
enough,” said Billy. “We’ve gotta stop this.”

I knew he
was right, but I couldn’t move. The sight of Moe had flushed my body with
anger. Every time he slapped the man it was like a drum that sent rage pounding
through me. I tried to move my legs but they were blocks of lead. It was as
though my body put in a defence mechanism to stop me. Like my brain knew that
the closer I got to Moe, the more likely I was to reach for my knife. I imagined
my blade sticking out of his gut, his blood dripping onto the mud.

Billy’s
boots crunched on the floor as he walked. Moe span round.

“You’re a
pretty one,” he said, looking at Billy’s face.

Billy put
his hand to his scarred cheek. “Untie him,” he said, and pointed at the guy.

“This isn’t
your nice little settlement,” said Moe. “Out here I’ll do whatever the fuck I
wa – “

Moe looked
past Billy and saw me, and the words dropped from his mouth like ash.

“Kyle,” he
said. This time the mocking tone left his voice.

My legs
lightened as though my brain had handed back control of my body. I walked
toward Moe, repeated words in my head like a mantra.
Think of the others,
Kyle. Don’t kill him. Think of the others.

Neither of
us spoke for a while. I couldn’t believe how different Moe looked. He’d lost
most of his bulk, whether through weeks of non-stop travel or plain
malnourishment. He wore a cold sneer on his face. The long sheets of hair that
once flowed from the sides of his head had started to wilt, leaving him with
only a few strands of straw. His face was a desert of wrinkles, his skin the
grey of concrete.

I couldn’t
think about Moe. I had to put that to one side and try to pretend I was just
dealing with another man. Get the job done, and get back to Bleakholt. Once I
was far away from Moe and I’d held up my end of the bargain to Victoria, I
could take my rage out on a wall. I would batter it until my knuckles swelled.

“What are
you doing to him?” I said, pointing at the man, though I already knew the answer.

“I’d heard
you were here,” said Moe.

The man
struggled against the bonds but his effort was useless. A look of panic shot
across his face.

“What the
fuck’s going on?” I said.

Moe looked
at the man, his face screwed in disgust. “Don’t worry about him.”

The man
screamed. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“The rule
worked in Vasey, and it works here,” said Moe. “With the added bonus of keeping
our stalker friends happy.”

In Vasey,
our old settlement, there was one rule. If you killed someone or stole
something, you died. Without a police force it was the only way to keep things
in order. I never agreed with it, but there wasn’t  an alternative. As I looked
at the man tied to a tree, terror written across his face, I knew the rule was
wrong. Something about Moe’s face told me this wasn’t about justice. He got a
kick out of it.

“Make sure
the ropes are tight,” Moe said. Then he looked at me. “When we first got here,
the stalkers would come every night. They’d prowl through camp, ripping people
from their tents. So I started leaving them sacrifices. It keeps them happy,
and now they stay away from camp. They know that if they come to the woods at
night, they’ll get their meal. I’ve trained them. Call me Moe, the stalker
whisperer.”

Revulsion
coursed through me. I imagined how many people had spent their nights tied to a
tree, shivering in the cold, waiting for the stalkers to come. Hearing their
claws scrape against the frozen ground as they crawled closer. Teeth bared,
spit dripping from their mouths.

Victoria
wanted me to solve her stalker problem. She wanted me to find out how the Vasey
campers were dealing with them, but I couldn’t bring this back as a solution.
No matter what this man had done, if he had done anything wrong at all, he
didn’t deserve this.

“It’s pretty
clear you’re one of them now, Kyle,” said Moe.  “Your loyalties have changed.”

My shoulders
tensed. “What the hell do you know about loyalty? You abandoned everyone, Moe.
Do you know what happened to the people you left behind in Vasey?”

“I took with
me everyone who wanted to come.”

“You left
the rest to die.”

Moe’s face
turned red. “I did what a leader does. I made a hard choice for the good of my
people.”

I pointed at
the man tied to the tree. His whole body sagged as if he had accepted his fate,
his determination to escape replaced by grim desperation.

“Look at
your people now. I’m sure they’re thanking you for the choices you’ve made.”

I walked toward
Moe. I gripped my knife and pulled it from my belt. Moe flinched, and the two
men stood beside him as if to shield the old man from my blade. As I got nearer
to him it took every ounce of resolve to turn away from Moe. I stopped next to
the tree. I reached up next to the man and cut the ropes with my knife.

One of Moe’s
men took a step toward me, a machete in his hand.

“Don’t move
a fucking inch,” said Billy, his solid frame persuading the man to rethink his
actions.

I cut
through the rope until it dropped to the floor like a dead snake. The man took
a step away from the tree and then stumbled to the ground. His face was pure
white, his eyes glazed. A damp patch had spread through his jeans.

“This stops
now,” I said, looking at Moe. “No more sacrifices. No more of the rule.”

Moe’s hands
shook. His eyes burned on me, and I could see the wheels of his brain turning.
I thought he might reach for his knife, and I got ready with my own. I could
take the old man, and Billy could handle the other two. When the Vasey campers
found out there would be uproar, and they loved Moe so much they’d come for
revenge. Still, sinking my knife into his neck would have been so sweet.

Moe relaxed
his arms. “You better run back to the settlement,” he said, the familiar grin
twisting on his lips.

My heart
pounded and my fingers shook. Images flooded through my brain of the slaughter
in Vasey. The cobblestones stained with blood from the stalker attacks. I
thought of the people Moe had let die, and knew that he deserved the same fate.

I couldn’t
do it. If I did, I would be taking the dream of Bleakholt away from the others.
I couldn’t do that to Alice, Ben, Justin and Melissa.

“Let’s go,”
I said to Billy.

I was going
to have to tell Victoria that the Vasey campers didn’t have a way to stop the
stalker attacks. Not one that we could copy, anyway. I didn’t know what she’d
do. Would she kick us out?

As we walked
away across the frozen mud, I heard Moe call out after me.

“Run away to
your new friends,” he shouted. “When I take over, you’ll be punished like the
rest of them.”

14

Although we
were well out of the forest, I could still smell blood in the air. I didn’t
know if I was imagining it or if being in the woods amongst the blood-covered
trees had somehow stained me. The wind whistled in my ear, and I was sure I
could hear the creak of Moe’s cackle in it.

As we walked
back to town I thought about what to do. I would have to tell Victoria what the
Vasey campers were doing to keep the stalkers away. If she knew about that, she
was bound to do something about it. I would relish being the one to stick a
knife in Moe’s gut, but I needed to square things with her first. If I had
Victoria’s blessing, there was no way she could evict us from Bleakholt.

Billy’s long
strides matched my own, and his heavy boots left imprints in the mud. Closer to
town the ground had thawed, the crisp mud turning to sludge. An old electric
store displayed a yellow poster in the window that read ‘closing down sale’. Further
up there was an estate agents with photographs of all the properties it had on
sale. I looked at the houses with their tarmac driveways and their pristine
lawns and imagined what they would be like now. Dirty windows, empty rooms, the
lawn an overgrown knot of weeds.

“Thanks for
your help back there,” I said.

“Surprised
you didn’t kill him.”

“Believe me,
I wanted to.”

“I know. I saw
it in your eyes.”

I still
didn’t know what to make of Billy, but there was no denying that he had helped
me. First with the stalkers when he turned up in his quad bike, then again with
my trip to the Vasey campers. He knew how to handle himself, and he didn’t say
much. I liked that. Still, I couldn’t completely trust him until I knew what
the hell was going on with him and Lou.

I decided
that there was no point dancing round the issue. “How do you know Lou?” I said.

He cocked
his eyebrow. “Which one is she? The one with the kid?”

“Come off
it. You know exactly who I mean.”

“You’ll have
to point her out to me sometime.”

If that was
the way he wanted to play it, then fine. I knew that Lou sure as hell wasn’t
going to clue me in, because she guarded her past like an oyster with a pearl.
Until I knew what was going on, I was going to have to be wary of both of them.

A crowd of
people stood near the fountain in the centre of town. The small frame of Ewan
Judah was in the middle, pointing at something that I couldn’t see.

“What are
they doing?” said Billy.

“Town
meeting?” I asked.

“These
people have jobs to do. Don’t know what they’re playing at.”

When we got
to the edge of the square I saw through the gaps in the crowd, and I realised
what Ewan was pointing at. Justin stood next to the dried-up fountain. Melissa
was at his side, held back by a tall man with a bald head and thick beard. She
struggled, but the man held firm. Ewan pointed at Justin, said something, and
then turned to the crowd.

I sprinted
toward them. A few metres away, I heard his voice.

“This boy’s
an abomination. You can see it in his sick eyes. Who knows what parasites he
carries? He's like a plague-carrying rat. At least during the plague, they
tried to flush the rats out. Victoria lets this boy stay and treats him as a
guest. Do you accept that?”

There were murmurs
in the crowd. Screwed up faces, puzzled looks. A few of the men and women
glanced at Justin and frowned as if they could see imaginary parasites crawling
over his skin.

“What the
hell’s going on?” I said.

“Kyle!”
shouted Melissa, and struggled against the bald man’s grip.

“You better
let her go,” I said.

The man
looked at Ewan. He kept his grip firm.

“Let her go,
Dean,” said Billy, arriving at my side.

The man
relaxed his grip on Melissa and then shoved her toward Justin. The two of them
stood next to the fountain with the eyes of the crowd on them. It made me think
of the Salem witch trials. The town crowding against a stranger, singling them
out as something evil.

“And right
on queue comes another outsider,” said Ewan. “Been to see your friends at the
campsite?”

I pushed my
way through the crowd. Some sidestepped and let me through, but I had to force
my way past others. I walked to the fountain and stood next to Justin. His face
was calm, but his eyes were dazed. It didn’t seem like he really knew what was
going on.

 “You okay?”
I said.

“I guess.”

Ewan took a
few steps closer until he stood in front of us.

“Are we
going to accept this?” he said, his face red, arms flailing like a preacher.
“Are we going to let diseased outsiders wander our town? Eat our food? Taint
the air?”

He was like
a mad evangelist, and I half expected him to start talking in tongues. It was a
far cry from the logical, though argumentative, guy I’d met in Victoria’s
office. He was playing up to the crowd and getting them riled up. From the
looks on their faces, it seemed like it was working. Ewan carried influence in
the town.

He jabbed a
finger in my face, stopped a few inches short of my nose. “You sir,” he said,
“brought the foul air in with you. You dirtied our streets with the taint of
the Wilds.”

More
gesticulating. Arms wobbling like a kite in the wind, his voice screeching
through me. This wasn’t going to end well for someone.

Ewan
addressed the crowd. “So what are we going to do, fine folks of Bleakholt? Let
them stay and infect us all? Or do we evict the boy? Cast him out into the
Wilds where he belongs?”

“You have a
choice to make,” he said to me. “Send the boy away, or we’ll make you all
leave.”

He jabbed
his finger into my face again, and this time my blood rushed hot through me.
The veins in my temple twitched, and my head felt like it was tightening in a
vice. I swung my fist, too quick for Ewan to react. It connected with his cheek
and I heard a crack. Ewan’s head jerked back, then he sank to the floor like a performer
in a poorly-acted death scene.

The crowd
shouted and pointed their fingers. The bald man reached out and grabbed my
shoulders. His grip pressed into me just below my shoulder blades, squeezing
the nerves and sending a shock of pain through me. I struggled against his hold
but he was too strong.

Two men
walked out of the crowd and toward Justin, their faces smouldering with anger.
Others followed. Billy pushed a man away.

“You all
better calm the fuck down or you’ll have Victoria to deal with,” he said.

The crowd
didn’t listen. Anger was the only thing on their minds now, and the sense of
violence in the air blocked out any sensible impulses.  I struggled against the
bald man’s grip, but the more I moved, the tighter he gripped me.

A crowbar
appeared above him and then crashed down onto his shoulder. The bald man jerked
back and cried out in pain. When his grip relaxed, I stumbled  to the floor.

Alice stood
behind the man with the crowbar in her hand. Ben was at her side. It was the
first time I’d seen him on his feet in over a week. Despite how happy I was to
see him in such healthy condition, I had more things to worry about. Ewan was
still working the crowd up and encouraging their violence.

A man
separated from the crowd and moved toward Alice. She didn’t see him until it
was too late, and his fist smashed into her cheek and sent her sprawling to the
ground. Ben bent down to his mother, his face awash with panic.

The man swung
his leg to kick Alice, but Ben stepped in the way and took the full force of
it. The boot sank into his little waist and the boy cried out and then
collapsed to the floor, wheezing. The man stood still for a minute. The anger
left his face when he saw what he had done. It was as though realisation crept
in, and he became aware that he had punched a woman and kicked a small boy. He
looked down at his hands, as though he expected them to be covered in blood.

The sight of
Alice and Ben on the floor made every muscle in my body tense up and boiled my
blood until it bubbled in my veins. Fury blanked out everything out and made it
all a blur, save for the man who stood above Alice and Ben.

I got to my
feet and launched myself at him. My body worked on an autopilot of anger, and I
didn’t realise what I was doing as my fist crashed into the man’s nose. He fell
to the ground. I stood over him and swung my boot into his face. It connected
with his mouth and there was a snap as some of his teeth dislodged from his
gums. The man squealed. I knelt on top of him and saw his eyes staring back at
me full of fear. Blood gushed from his nose.

I lifted my
fist then brought it down onto his face and heard his nose crack. His blood
splattered on my face. I lifted my fist up and brought it down again. More
blood. Another punch, another sickly crack. I couldn’t stop myself and my
thoughts faded away as I punched him again and again.

Someone
grabbed my shoulder and tried to pull me away. I turned at them and swung my fist,
connecting with their face and sent them sprawling back.

The fog of
anger lifted, and I realised who had grabbed me. It was Lou. She held her hand
to her nose and looked at me in shock.