Last Days With the Dead (24 page)

As Steve jumped down from the cart, he leaned over to stretch the aching muscles in his legs.

‘Come on, slow-poke,’ said Phil, already jamming the chisel end of his crowbar in between the two large wooden doors to try to pry them open.

‘Sorry,’ Steve replied, jogging over to Phil.

With a splintering crack, one of the doors suddenly flew open just as Steve was about to help.

‘Show off!’ he said, smiling at his friend.

‘Wood must have been rotten,’ Phil replied, shrugging his shoulders as he stepped and reached up to unlock the remaining door. ‘Don’t worry, tough guy, now that you’re here, you can help me check it out for any of the Dead.’

‘Great,’ grumbled Steve, adjusting his hold on the crowbar so he could use it more like a club.

Stepping into the dimly lit building, Steve was surprised to find a mottled covering of grasses and weeds growing out of a stretch of waterlogged carpet that ran past the single cashier’s desk and further into the small store. The whole placed smelled of what could only be described as green things growing, but with a good portion of wet earth and damp rot thrown in for good measure.

‘Guess there’s a burst pipe somewhere
,’ Steve whispered, his feet making a squishing sound with each step.

‘Hmmm
,’ replied Phil, listening intently for any movement from inside.

Opposite the
cashier’s desk, a large rack of what had once been potted flowering plants had been reduced to withered dry husks, with only those on the bottom row whose roots had been able to grow down to the sodden carpet for water, showing any sign of life. But further in the store, it was quite a different story. Inside, there were row upon row of large pots and planters, each overflowing with a variety of flowers, large ferns, shrubs, and tall bamboo bushes. They had been left to grow unchecked, amid a blanket of expanding green moss, to create a plush hidden garden within the walls of the building.

Walking slowly along the outside rows of planters, Steve and Phil began to check the shop for any signs of the Dead. Above
them, the soft patter of water falling through the broken sky light told them the rain clouds had finally caught up with them. After thankfully finding nothing amid the explosion of wet greenery, they moved onto checking the back of the shop. Here, they were greeted by a strange motionless army of concrete Roman goddesses, nymphs and gnomes, but still the Dead were nowhere to be seen.

‘Looks like nobody’s home,’ whispered Steve, resting the crowbar over his shoulder.

‘Just one more place to check,’ answered Phil, pointing with his weapon to a single door with the words ‘office- staff only’ on it, made up of stick on letters.

Standing either side of the door with their weapons ready, Steve reached down to turn the handle.

‘Locked,’ he whispered, trying it a second time.

‘Not for long
,’ Phil replied, jamming the end of his crowbar between the door and its frame.

Unlike the main doors, this one in the far corner of the building had been more protected from the elements
, but even so, it still had little chance against Phil’s brute strength. With a bang, the door suddenly flew open, hitting the wall inside. With his feet apart and his weapon held high, ready to come crashing down on the skull of one of the Dead, Steve jumped into the room.

‘Oh
,’ he said, the crowbar returning to its resting place on his shoulder, ‘it’s empty.’

‘You sound disappointed,’ said Phil
, looking about the dark office that had thankfully been able to keep out the worst of the damp and mould.

‘Nah,’ he said, leaning against the edge of a desk, ‘just didn’t expect something to go our way
… makes a change.’

‘Well
, don’t jinx it, soldier,’ said Phil, pushing one of the other tables against the wall. ‘Come on, give me a hand, open that blind, we’ve found our room for the night.’

Later, Karen’s eyes flickered open. She could hear the soft patter of rain against the window
, and as she lay wrapped in a blanket on the office floor, an involuntary shiver went through her. She had dreamt of Matt. She remembered images of him stroking her hair with blood covered hands, telling her everything would be alright, feeling the coldness of his touch as he embraced her, and then as she looked up into her brother’s face, the horror of seeing his corpse looking back at her with nothing but hunger in his film covered eyes. But she was awake now, and with each second that passed, the images faded and flitted to the darkest corners of her mind, unfortunately, promising to return another time when she slept.

Lifting her arm, she could see from the illuminated dial of her watch that she had only been asleep for a few hours
, and despite the chill in the air, she knew the pressure in her bladder was a demand that could not be ignored. As quietly as she could, Karen stood up, wrapping the blanket about her shoulders to keep out the cold. With just the glowing embers from the fire they had lit in a portable barbeque earlier to light her way, she gingerly stepped over the lumpy shapes of Steve and the other men lying on the floor. In the doorway, she could see Liz on watch, sitting with her back against the doorframe and her sword across her lap. Liz turned to look at Karen as she stepped from the darkness.

‘Can’t sleep?’ Liz asked in a whisper.

‘Bit cold, that’s all. I guess heating was the one thing the base had going for it,’ she said softly, leaning against the opposite side of the door frame, ‘that and toilets. I need a pee.’

‘Well
, at least you’ve got plenty of bushes to pick from to go behind,’ Liz whispered, the light from the embers reflecting off her smiling eyes, ‘the place is full of them.’

‘Lucky me
,’ Karen replied, stepping over Liz’s outstretched legs.

‘You’ll get used to it,’ Liz said, reaching up to touch Karen’s arm, ‘privacy may be
in short supply, but at least you’re free now.’

Karen looked down at the young woman bathed in shadow. Sadly
, Karen knew her own freedom had been paid for with her brother’s life, but she appreciated Liz’s sentiment so she forced her lips into a sad smile.

‘Don’t go too far,’ Liz whispered, giving Karen’s arm a comforting squeeze before releasing her.

Karen gave a nod that probably went unseen in the darkness and walked over to the rows of large planters in the centre of the building. Letting the glossy leaves of some exotic plant slip through her fingers as she walked by, she looked up at the broken skylight, now a slightly lighter patch of blackness against the dark ceiling. It was colder here, and as she pulled her blanket tighter about her, she paused to listen to the calming sound of the rainwater falling. But her urgent bladder would not let her enjoy the moment for long, so with a sigh, she undid her belt buckle and dropped her trousers. Somewhere amongst the foliage behind her, she could hear a soft rustling sound. A mouse or some other small nocturnal creature was out foraging. Forced to rely on only Nature’s bounty, now that Man had stopped obligingly leaving his scraps for them to feast upon, the creature stopped its frantic movements as it became aware of Karen’s presence.

‘Don’t mind me, little mouse,’ Karen whispered, pulling up her trousers.

Suddenly, with a crashing of leaves and broken branches, something large fell through the skylight. With her heart hammering in her chest, Karen froze, her wide eyes desperately trying to pierce the wall of foliage in front of her. She could hear footsteps running towards her, and as the sound of something stumbling through the branches grew closer, Karen finally managed to force her feet to take a step back.

‘Karen!’ came Liz’s urgent whisper from somewhere in the darkness.

‘Something fell…’ she began.

Without
warning, a large shape broke from the shadows of the tall plants, barrelling into her. Crying out in surprise, Karen was knocked backwards, falling down hard on to something metal. Crying out again as the metal object dug deeply into her back, Karen did not have to see her attacker to know it was one of the Dead, she could smell it.

‘Liz!’ she screamed, desperately trying to push the Dead thing off of her and cursing herself for leaving her guns back in the office.

In the darkness, Karen could only catch glimpses of the Dead fiend that wanted to sink its teeth into her. A glint of wet bone, a tuft of hair on a patch of lose hanging skin, the mould covered back of an emaciated hand, all were tiny snapshots of the horror on top of her, anxious to feast on her flesh. She could hear Liz running through the shop, knocking aside plants and containers in her bid to find her, but Karen knew if she didn’t free herself from beneath the animated corpse within seconds, her life would be over. Already the corpse was darting forward to snap at her with its blackened teeth. With a scream of panic, Karen managed to work her hands up against the struggling Dead man’s chest and push. But as she did so, her hands sank sickeningly deep into something wet and putrid. It took her a fraction of a second to realise the very skin and flesh of his chest was sloughing away from his ribcage. Fighting the urge to vomit, Karen used this to her advantage and dug in with all the force she could muster. As she pushed aside the connecting tissue between the Dead man’s ribs, Karen hooked her fingers through the gap and grabbed hold of the bone. Then, making sure to keep her mouth closed, she turned her head to the side and yanked her arms abruptly upwards over her shoulders. This lifted the Dead man up along her body, splattering her face with cold stinking fluids and lumps of rancid flesh, but now that her head was level with his stomach, she was at least free of the bulk of the Dead man’s body, allowing her to slip to one side and out from beneath him. The Dead man, realising he had lost his prize, quickly twisted back to grab her, but as Karen finally kicked her legs out from under him, she saw a flash of reflected light as Liz’s blade sliced through the air. With a thud, the Dead man’s head bounced off into the darkness, ricocheting off of a display of mould covered gardening aprons.

‘Fucking hell!’ said Karen breathlessly, while she frantically wiped gore from her face.

‘Did he bite you,’ Liz asked. ‘Have you been bitten?’

‘What?’ she replied, slight
ly dazed. ‘No, I’m fine, he didn’t get me… I’m fine.’

In a thunder of footfalls, the others finally found Liz and Karen in the darkness. All except Imran were armed and ready for battle, he was holding the stub of a flicking candle, lighting their way.

‘What the fuck happened?’ asked Phil, looking down at the headless body lying next to Karen.

‘He fell through the skylight,’ Liz explained, giving the body a nudge with her boot
. ‘He must’ve died up on the roof and when he heard Karen, he decided to drop in for a bite.’

‘You could’ve told me you have a candle
,’ snapped Karen, glaring at Imran while Liz helped her up.

‘I…’ Imran began

‘Look, why don’t I come with you outside,’ Liz interrupted, waving away Imran’s reaction to Karen’s barb, ‘this sort of place is bound to have a water barrel to catch rain water,  you can wash that shit off yourself properly.’

‘Thanks,’ Karen replied, her breath a little shaky.

Flicking the worst of the gore from her fingertips, Karen allowed Liz to lead her to the main door.

‘Don’t take offence, Man,’ said Steve, patting Imran’s shoulder as he watched the two wom
en disappear into the darkness beyond the flickering light of the candle. ‘She’s had a shit load of crap to deal with in a short time and now this; she didn’t mean anything by it.’

‘Yeah, I know.’ Imran replied, turning to look at Steve
. ‘Come on, we might as well heat some water now that we’re all awake. Perhaps I can get back in her good books with some nettle and rosehip tea.’

‘Hasn’t the poor woman suffered enough for one day,’ said Phil, pulling a face much to Steve’s and Patrick’s amusement.

‘Funny,’ said Imran, walking back to the office in a huff, leaving Steve, Phil and Patrick standing together chuckling in the dark, ‘very fucking funny.’

***

DAY 3

‘God, it feels like someone’s stomped up and down my back and then kicked me in the neck for the fun of it,’ said Karen, arching her back and moving slowly from side to side.

‘Still a bit tender from your tumble last night?’ asked Steve, spooning the last of some cold porridge into his mouth
. ‘I’m not surprised. You landed quite hard down on that trowel, got yourself some nasty bruises there, I bet.’

‘If only,’ Karen replied, rolling her neck to stretch out the aching muscles, ‘it was sleeping on that bloody floor that’s done me in
. Haven’t you people ever thought to bring an inflatable mattress or lilo on these trips?’

‘I’m just as much a newbie as you,’ said Steve, smiling as he tipped a little water in his bowl, swished it around
, and then threw its contents into a corner. ‘Might be something to suggest to Patrick and the others though.’

‘Hmm…’ Karen replied, stiffly reaching down to pick up her jacket.

‘We’re leaving in a few minutes,’ said Phil, popping his head through the office doorway, ‘so if you feel you might need to do something, do it now.’

‘Do something?’ said Karen, a confused look on her face as she looked back at Steve who was bundling up the last of the blankets
. ‘Like what? Go shopping?’

‘He’s means if you need the
loo; go now, because we’ll not be stopping for a few hours,’ Steve replied, patting her shoulder as he walked past her, ‘and try not to get eaten this time.’

‘Oh,
screw you.’ She said, quickly glancing back to double check that they hadn’t forgotten anything.

After finding a secluded part of the shop to take Phil’s advice, Karen joined Steve and the others by the cart.

‘It seems a waste to leave them,’ Phil was saying, gesturing to the pile of shiny spades, garden forks, and hedging sheers, ‘and I doubt we’ll be coming this far from home again.’

‘I agree
, but it’s a bit cramped as it is in the cart,’ Patrick answered, picking up a pair of shears that looked like an enormous pair of scissors, ‘we could strap some to the roof I suppose.’

‘And the rest can be attached to Samson’s saddle,’ added Liz, giving the trusty stallion’s neck a friendly pat, ‘you don’t mind, do you boy
?’

‘Well
, whatever we do, we’d better decide quickly,’ interrupted Imran from his lookout point on top of the cart, ‘looks like we’ll be getting some company soon.’

With this, each member of the group turned to look in the direction Imran was pointing. There, moving painfully slow, were over a dozen of the Dead in various states of decomposition. Step by
step, they dragged their ruined bodies along the driveway toward the garden centre, drawn to the sounds of the living they had heard on the breeze. Already, one of the pitiful creatures, an armless Dead woman, had made it as far as the fence. Unable to understand why she could go no further, she pushed herself against the fencing and gnashed viciously against the wire. What few teeth she had left were soon being ripped free of her blackened gums, as the Dead woman’s fury at being denied the taste of warm flesh grew.

‘Time to go, people,’ said Patrick, spurring everyone into action
. ‘Phil, whatever’s not attached to the roof in less than one minute is being left behind, we’re leaving.’

‘On it!’ replied Phil, already quickly tossing one after another of the new spades and forks up to be deftly caught
by Imran.

Patrick was true to his word and within one minute
, Delilah was pulling them towards the gate and within five, they were leaving the corpses behind them to resume their journey to Carlyon bay.

Back at the
Garden Centre’s fence, the armless Dead woman’s gaze slowly followed the cart as it disappeared from view. At the very core of her being, was the compulsion to follow. The need to tear into warm flesh and feel hot blood splash across her mouth, burned within her like an all-consuming fire, destroying all in its path. This was a need that could not be ignored, and she could comprehend nothing else. Struggling, she tried to push herself away from the wire, but with her bare feet slipping on the dew-covered grass, it appeared to be a Herculean task for this Dead woman with no arms to perform. Eventually, due to some luck rather than anything remotely approaching co-ordinated movement, she finally fell backwards away from the fence. For a few seconds, she rocked back and forth on her filth covered feet, trying to regain her balance, but then, like a marionette having its final string cut, she collapsed in a heap to the ground. For a while, her film covered eyes roamed aimlessly in her sunken sockets, unable to comprehend the reason for her sudden change in perspective. Then, as her mould covered chest rose and fell, forcing ragged breaths faster and faster in and out of her ruined body, she began to spasm and shake, until finally, with one last ghostly breath expelling from her shrivelled lungs, she became still. 

The rain clouds of the previous evening had finally departed in the early hours, leaving nothing but a clear blue sky and clean crisp morning for their journey. The air itself seemed to have a newness to it. The rain had, if only temporally, cleansed the earth of its ever present death and decay
, to allow a new day to begin. From the east, a fresh breeze was still chasing the tail of the last remaining clouds on the distant horizon and with it, brought the soft delicate fragrance of a thousand spring meadows in bloom. Inside the cart, Liz had opened the top hatch and pushed aside some of the spy hole covers to allow the clean air of the morning to wash over her. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the unadulterated smell of spring growth and life starting anew. Only when the breeze finally brought her the distinctive whiff of blackened rotting flesh did this illusion of an untainted world, finally evaporate like smoke on the wind. With a disappointed frown, Liz lent over and began to close some of the holes again.       

‘It should be just round the next corner,’ said Imran
, looking from the map to the road ahead and back to the map again.

Despite Phil setting Delilah’s pace as brisk as he dared, it had still taken them nearly an hour to get to the spot on the map
where Liz had hopefully found a suitable level crossing to get onto the tracks.

‘About time
,’ said Phil, scratching his stubbly beard. ‘We need to make up some good time soon, or getting Charlie back is going to be a real problem.’

‘I don’t think this rescue is going to be a doddle even if we catch up with them before they get to the carrier boat,’ added Patrick, taking a swig from a bottle of water and pulling a face at the taste of the warm water, ‘any ideas?’

‘Well, it seems to me, Steve is the only one who’ll have any real chance to getting close enough to even try,’ said Karen, looking from Patrick to Steve. ‘They’ll recognise him and they know that he was part of the last inland expedition. He can say that when the camp was overrun he managed to escape, just like Matt told them he did, but unlike Matt, he’ll tell them he was on foot, so didn’t make it to the pick-up point in time.’

‘O
kay,’ said Steve, slowly nodding as he realised Karen was probably right, ‘looks like it’s up to me then.’

‘There is one thing though,’ added Imran, looking up from the map, ‘aren’t you a bit clean and well fed to have been roughing it for the last eight months?’

‘He’s right,’ said Karen, looking Steve up and down, ‘they’ll expect you to be filthy and half starved.’

‘Well, unless I can lose half my body weight by the time we get there, there’s not much I can do about that,’ replied Steve, shrugging his shoulders.

‘Here,’ said Liz, scooping a clump of wet mud from the tread of her boots and rubbing it on his cheeks, ‘this’ll do for now, but when we can, you need to roll round in some mud to dirty your clothes up a bit too. It might just fool them long enough for a way in.’

‘Err
, thanks,’ Steve replied, dubiously touching the wet mud on his face, ‘this is just mud, right, Liz?’

‘If it makes you comfortable to believe that
, then, yes,’ said Liz, covering her smile with the back of her muddy hand.

‘Liz?’ he began, but suddenly Phil pulled the cart to an abrupt stop

‘Well, we’ve found our level crossing,’ said Phil, turning back to look at the others in the cart, ‘and as always, it’s not going to be that simple.’

‘Why? What’s up?’ asked Patrick, moving forward so he could look through the front view slit.

Just as Phil had said, the road ahead did indeed lead them to the train tracks with its much needed level-crossing. Amid an explosion of vast brambles and garden plants left to run wild, Patrick could see there were two dilapidated cottages nestling close together on one side of the road, while opposite were the remains of a slightly larger house. Unfortunately, from the state of the larger house, it had obviously been the victim of a raging fire many years ago. As the inferno had been left to consume the building, the structure had been unable to withstand the intensity of the blaze, causing much of the brickwork of the front of the house to collapse across the small front garden and out onto the narrow road. Rubble and twisted charred debris was strewn everywhere. Not so much that the road was totally impassable, but enough to pose a danger to the horses and the cart wheels. So far from home it could be disastrous if one of the horses stumbled and became lame, or if the cart’s wheels were damaged beyond a simple patch up repair.

‘Ah
,’ Patrick mused, looking at the chunks of rubble scattered across the road, ‘we should be able to get past but we just need someone to shift some of it.’

‘I’ll go,’ said Steve, grabbing one of the crowbars from a hook on the internal wall of the cart, ‘it’ll give me a chance to dirty up a bit too.’

‘Okay, well, there aren’t any of the Dead,’ Phil began, peering at the road ahead of them. ‘Oh, wait, yes there is. There’s a Dead man trying to pull himself through the brambles, over there.’

Steve looked over Phil’s shoulder to where he was pointing. Sure enough, he could just about see the shape of the Dead man struggling to free himself from the mass of thorny bushes.

‘God, your eyes are better than mine,’ he said, tapping Phil’s shoulder. ‘I’ll deal with him first, don’t want him alerting every corpse in the neighbourhood that we’re here.’

‘Nothing behind us,’ said Imran, checking through a spy hole set in the rear of the cart.

‘Right,’ said Steve, quietly opening one of the side hatches to jump down to the road.

With the comfortable weight of the crowbar resting in his hand, Steve walked around the larger piles of blackened brickwork and over to the brambles that partially hid the struggling Dead man. From his long lank hair, gore encrusted beard
, and the tattoos that spiralled up his pale withered arms, Steve guessed this man had been some type of biker when he had been alive. As he approached closer, Steve could see the Dead man was only wearing the pus covered remains of a filthy T-shirt, across the front of which was blazoned the name of a heavy metal band he had never heard of. Steve wondered how the man had come to be killed wearing only this single piece of clothing, but when he noticed the shredded and torn remains of the man’s buttocks and legs, it became apparent. He could picture it, the man fleeing for his life as one or more of the Dead pounced on his back tearing at his clothes, desperate to get the warm flesh they somehow knew lay hidden beneath. Fabric and flesh had been frantically ripped from his body; they would’ve shown no mercy. They were simply no longer capable of it, such concepts were concerns only of the living.

With his boots crunching on the scattered debris underfoot, the Dead man suddenly became aware of Steve’s presence. Instantly
, the Dead biker’s head snapped in Steve’s direction, his film covered eyes burning with an insatiable need. With a sudden added urgency, the Dead man’s fingers clawed at the earth, desperate to pull himself free of the bushes.

‘Oh, no you don’t
,’ mumbled Steve, closing the gap between the Dead man and himself. ‘You stay there and play dead.’

As he spoke the final word, Steve’s crowbar swung through the air, smashing deep into the top of the Dead man’s skull
, and with a sound somewhere between a cough and a gag, the Dead man’s last fetid breath escaped his body. Placing his foot on the crushed skull, Steve pulled the crowbar free, flicking shards of broken skull and lumps of stinking brain matter over his trouser leg.

‘Shit
,’ said Steve under his breath, hoping there was something in the cart he could wipe the foul smelling mush off with later.

With the Dead man now dealt with, Steve began the task of clearing a path for the cart to the level crossing. Tossing them to the side of the road, brick by brick, Steve cleared any of the debris that would pose a problem for the horses
, or the cart’s wheels, and within only a few minutes, there only remained a few more to remove. Placing the crowbar by his feet, Steve bent down to lift a lump of wall too heavy to pick up with one hand, and with a grunt, began a waddle like walk with it to the roadside. The moment he knew it was far enough out of the way, he lowered the heavy slab of rubble to the ground. With the heavy burden released, Steve stood upright and with a groan, arched his back slightly to ease his protesting muscles. It was then that he heard the low growl.