Five More Days With The Dead (Lanherne Chronicles Book 2) (6 page)

‘They’re coming down the ramp!’ J-man shouted, glancing up as
the burnt bodies of their friends appeared at the top of the ramp. ‘We’ve got to hurry, man!’

Patrick turned his head
. Leon was right. They didn’t have much time.

‘Help
J-Man with Helen!’ Patrick cried, pushing himself away from Leon. ‘I’m okay. Just get Helen to the stable.’

Even as Leon dashed back to Sarah and J-Man, a wave of dizziness hit Patrick and he had to steady himself briefly against a water barrel. As he
waited for the spinning to pass, he saw Ryan appear. With a gasp, he took in Ryan’s burnt and bloody form and realised his friend was now one of the Dead. Even as he watched, he saw Ryan lock his predator’s gaze on J-Man.

‘J-man!’ Patrick shouted, ‘Behind you!’

Before J-Man could turn his head, a pair of Dead hands fell upon his shoulders. He barely had time to drop Helen’s feet before he was pulled violently backwards towards a pair of snapping jaws with nothing to promise but death in their bite.

‘No!’ screamed Leon, terrified at what he may be forced to witness.

Still holding Helen under her arms, Leon knew that even if he dropped her, he would be too late to save his friend. Helplessly watching Ryan lean in to take a bite from J-Man’s neck, Leon did not notice Sarah swiftly grab from the ground a short section of scaffolding pipe that been thrown from the pylon. With a fraction of a second to spare and with Sarah screaming with the effort, the pipe flew passed the back of J-man’s head to smash Ryan full in the face. It gave J-Man the smallest of opportunities to save himself and he took it. Twisting in the Dead man’s grip, J-Man turned and kicked at him hard. Ryan’s Dead body that had been knocked back just enough to give J-Man a fighting chance stumbled slightly before reaching in again for the flesh it so desired. J-Man wasn’t to go down without putting up a fight and before he felt Dead hands upon him again, he quickly reached for the pipe Sarah had thrown. Holding onto it with only one hand, there wasn’t enough power in his backhanded swing to do any real damage, but as the pipe connected with the side of Ryan’s head shattering the bone beneath, burnt Dead flesh ripped free.

‘Down!’ shouted a familiar voice behind him and trusting his friend’s instincts, J-man did just that.

With a wet ‘thud’, one of Leon’s knives appeared in the Dead man’s skull. For the briefest of moments, Ryan’s body stood motionless before falling to the ground, its unnatural existence ended.

‘Move it!’ Sarah screamed sprinting to the stable, as a dozen of the reanimated Dead began to stampede down the ramp towards them.

As the wave of death descended upon them, they knew their time running out. With Leon and J-Man lifting Helen’s unconscious body again, they followed Sarah as fast as they could.

Needing to ensure Jasmine was safe first, Patrick had managed to force his unstable feet to get him to the stable. Reaching the safety the metal doors promised at the same time as Sarah, he kicked open one of the doors. Even as she ran past him, she plucked the screaming infant from his arms and ran inside. Standing
in the doorway with one hand ready to slam it closed should the Dead attack, Patrick watched as the running corpses drew closer to Leon and J-Man. They weren’t going to make it. He could tell and even as the thought demanded recognition, he saw the Dead splinter into groups. One group of four instantly took down and tore into one of the other fleeing survivors. Even from where he stood, he could hear the growls and grunts of the Dead as they ripped apart the screaming terrified man. Elsewhere, two badly burnt Dead men and a woman were chasing a screaming petrified girl fleeing for her life

‘Shit! Shit! Shit!’ Leon was shouting, as he saw the Dead were now only metres behind them.

Turning his head briefly towards the stable still ten metres away, he knew even if they dropped Helen, there was no chance of getting to safety before they were taken down by the Dead hoard on their heels. Then, like a saviour from the Middle Ages, Gabe charged past, riding Shadow.

‘Co
me on, you fuckers!’ shouted Gabe, the black mare rearing up to knock two of the Dead off their feet with her front hooves.

It was
just the distraction they needed and fighting though his dizziness, Patrick ran forward to help Leon and J-Man save Helen.

‘Get back!’ Patrick yelled, lifting Helen up onto his strong shoulders.

Not waiting to be told twice, they ran the short distance to the stable door and after the briefest of stumbles, as Patrick fought of a wave of spinning that threatened to unbalance him, he joined them.

‘Take her
,’ he said, dropping Helen into Leon’s arms.

Turning,
he saw Gabe charge after the group chasing the terrified young woman, Shadow’s hooves running down two of the Dead in her path in the process. However, four of the Dead had almost reached the stable and although Patrick hated himself for it, he slammed the heavy doors closed, leaving Gabe and the girl to their fate.

‘What about Gabe?’ J-Man
asked, panting as he tried to force oxygen into his shocked body. ‘We can’t just leave him...’

Patrick just looked at him
not knowing what to say, his silence speaking volumes. They all knew if they wanted to survive, there was nothing they could do for Gabe. Their own situation was hopeless enough as it was and they knew it. Already Dead hands had begun to bang on the steel double doors.

Outside, Gabe charged past a De
ad woman, kicking her head hard to knock her down, if only temporarily. That left just one Dead man who was now almost within arm’s reach of the screaming woman.

‘Yah!’ Gabe yelled, turning Shadow a fraction to the left so the man was directly in her thunderous path.

The Dead man paid no heed to the sounds behind him. The living flesh was almost in his grasp enrapturing him totally. So as Shadow’s hooves rained down upon him, breaking bone and tearing flesh in her wake, his decaying mind could not comprehend why he had been robbed of his bloody prize. Even now, with his body trampled into the earth, he tried to reach with shattered limbs for the warm bodies that demanded his sole attention.

‘Get up!’ Gabe shouted, reaching his arm out to the petrified woman
, called Chloe.

‘Chloe!’ h
e shouted, breaking through her hysteria, ‘Hurry!’

Seeing more of the Dead focusing their bloody attention on them, Chloe reache
d up to take his arm. Straining what muscles he had, Gabe managed to pull her up onto Shadow’s back.

‘Now what?’ S
he cried, wrapping her arms tightly around Gabe’s waist, as she looked at the approaching Dead.

Scanning the scene before them, Gabe knew their options were limited. With the main gate still
locked, there was to be no easy escape from the Dead for them but they could definitely wait them out until they slowed down a bit, this he knew for sure. With a kick of his heels, he urged Shadow into a gallop to the perimeter fence. As he suspected, the Dead followed, desperate to taste their flesh, but they had no chance in keeping up with Shadow’s pace. Within thirty seconds, Shadow had followed the fence round to the section closest to the stable. Breaking off, Gabe steered Shadow towards the single story, flat roofed, concrete building.

‘Get ready!’ H
e shouted over his shoulder to Chloe.

Pulling Shadow to an abrupt halt next to the wall, he turned to help Chloe stand. Gripping tightly to the lip of the roof, she frantically pulled herself up.

‘Hurry!’ She screamed, glancing at the fast approaching Dead.

With a brief look over his shoulder, Gabe threw his arms up to reach for Chloe’s hands reaching down for him. Screaming with effort, Chloe pulled Gabe high enough so he could grasp the edge of the roof himself. Even
now, the Dead were reaching around Shadow, their arms aloft, desperate to get hold of the flesh being denied them.

‘Gabe!’ Chloe screamed, as one of the Dead grabbed his ankle.

Kicking his legs wildly, Gabe managed to shake off the Dead man’s unholy grasp and with an effort born of terror, pulled himself up onto the roof to collapse, panting, in Chloe’s arms.

‘That was… close
,’ he managed to say between gulping breaths.

Bursting into tears, Chloe pulled him close to her, only able to say two words over and over between her sobbing.

‘Thank you…’

***

‘We haven’t forgotten anything, have we?’ asked Duncan, checking the supplies they brought with them for what seemed like the tenth time.

‘Hey, we got all we need
,’ Phil said looking over at the anxious man. ‘Just calm down. There’ll be plenty of time to freak out later when we get there, okay?’

Unlike Imran and Phil, Duncan didn’t go on foraging trips into the world beyond the safety of convent
’s walls. He spent most of his time contributing by making gadgets and gizmos that would make their lives easier within them, so to be out among the Dead again was making him a bit nervous. Despite knowing they were perfectly safe inside the box-covered cart, hidden away from the Dead roaming the countryside, he couldn’t help himself. Although he could of course defend himself should the need arise, he would’ve been dead a long time ago if he couldn’t. He just didn’t have a hope of matching Imran for skill or Phil for pure brute strength.

‘Sorry
,’ he said, nervously sitting back down.

For a
moment, he didn’t know what to do with his twitching hands. Therefore, after trying to rest them in various positions, he gave up and just sat on them to keep them still. Giving Phil a weak smile when he noticed the big man watching him, he shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘Devil makes light work for idle hands.’

‘I
f you say so, Duncan,’ replied Phil, smiling as he made a show of sitting on his own hands.

‘Yes, that’s
right. Laugh at the jittery fool,’ Duncan said, laughing.

‘Hey, jittery is fine by me. A
t least, it means you know what’s possible out here,’ Phil continued, leaning forward to give Duncan’s leg a friendly tap. ‘It’s the cocky ones that think they know it all. They’re the ones that end up getting someone killed. I’ve seen it too many times before, believe me.’

For a moment, Phil was transported to other communities he had stayed with. To other trips like th
is one, where some alpha-male who took one risk too many, just to prove some point about being a real man, only to end up one of the Dead himself. Phil knew hungry teeth that appearing without warning, didn’t care who you chose to sleep with. Then there were the kids, too young and too stupid to realise the Dead didn’t give a shit that their lives had barely started. He had seen it countless times. They thought they knew it all. They thought they had the Dead licked. What did they need to be cautious for? The Dead were slow, the Dead were stupid. What they always forgot, and what always got them killed, was the Dead had them impossibly outnumbered and more importantly, the Dead could wait for-ever.

‘Hope for the best but plan for the worst?’ Duncan said, understanding what Phil was saying.

‘Exactly,’ Phil replied, giving Duncan a sad smile, the long forgotten faces of so many wasted lives fighting for his attention.

For a
while, the three travelled in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. They had barely reached the end of the tree-lined lane leading away from the convent and already Imran was missing the feel of Liz in his arms. He tried to concentrate on steering Delilah through the maze of cracks and potholes that had made the lane a minefield of late. It had been bad enough in the summer but the constant frost and thaw of the winter was making it a lot worse. In years to come, the roads might become nothing more than obscured lines criss-crossing the countryside greenery; their presence only made known by the shards of cracked and broken asphalt hidden deep among the foliage. Despite this concentration, his input wasn’t really needed yet. Delilah travelled this lane countless times and she knew automatically when to veer to the left or right to avoid the worst of the potholes. It wouldn’t be until they reached the end of the lane and passed through the battered open wooden gate, that Imran would really be needed at all.

Sure
enough, when they arrived at gate, drooping on its long rusted hinges, Delilah came to a stop. It used to be that she would always be told to go left but since the group had cleared the large fallen tree blocking the direct route to the village, she now had a choice of going right too. With a click of his tongue and a slight pull on the reins, Imran urged her to go right.

‘Liz asked us to just check in on Jackson before we start out for the Penhaligan’s
,’ Imran called to Duncan and Phil over his shoulder. ‘Just to make sure he’s okay. If his lights came on too, it might have shaken him a bit.’

Phil made grumbling noises behind him but didn’t say anything. Jackson had been a bone of contention for quite a few people when it was discovered what he had locked in one of the store cupboards of the small school he had made his home. Like
many, he had been unable to come to terms with the loss of his wife to the Dead and adamant that no one would take from him what little of her he had left. He had effectively kept her living corpse trapped with him in the school for the last seven years. After many hours of arguing and promises from Jackson, he had given Charlie the only key to the door of her prison, ensuring that the Dead woman would never be able to escape the cupboard that was to be her tomb for-ever. Each day, Jackson would sit next to the door and chat to his Dead wife’s decaying corpse. Sometimes he would even look through the tiny re-enforced glass panel but more often than not, just to know she was close to him was enough to help through another day of loneliness. Those at Lanherne had offered him safety behind their walls on more than one occasion but there would be a price to pay. He would have to leave his wife behind and that was a price he simply couldn’t comprehend paying, so he stayed.