Last Days With the Dead (5 page)

‘Shit
,’ was all he could say, as he was joined by Imran and Patrick, with Liz coming closely behind them.

‘What is it?’ Patrick asked, and Phil handed the binoculars over to the man they had agreed would be the leader of Lanherne.

‘Smoke trail,’ Phil said, turning to Imran and Liz, ‘coming from the village.’

‘Damn
,’ said Patrick under his breath, lowering the binoculars again.

‘The smoke plume hasn’t got any bigger since we noticed it
,’ added Damien. ‘So whatever’s on fire can’t be that big.’

‘It’s the fact something’s burning in the village at all that worries me
,’ said Patrick, subconsciously rubbing his scar again. ‘Phil, Imran, I think you two should go check it out and take Rich with you.’

‘No,’ interrupted Liz
, ‘I’m going with them. Alice or Nicky can keep an eye on Saleana.’

Patrick looked briefly from Imran to Liz. He knew Liz was unrivalled in her skill with her sword. In
fact, like many at Lanherne, he owed his life to the swiftness of her blade, but he was surprised that the young mother would so readily put herself in possible danger when there were others who could go in her stead. He certainly knew Helen would think twice before offering to leave their daughter behind in someone else’s care.

‘The best way I know to keep my child
,’ Liz began, almost as if she had read Patrick’s thoughts, ‘to keep all our children safe, is to fight for them. If I’m to stay on top of my game, I need to stay sharp, and training in the courtyard with some old scarecrow just isn’t the same, Patrick. I’ll be no good to anyone if I’m left to sit around here twiddling my thumbs whenever there’s killing to be done.  I need to go.’

Patrick looked into the young woman’s eyes and saw an unwavering determination there. He knew there would be no persuading her
, and from a glance at Imran, he knew it too.

‘You’d better get ready then,’ Patrick said with a nod
, ‘and for God’s sake, be careful, the three of you.’

Ten minutes later and Penny was double checking the last of Samson’s tack. Pulling at the various leather straps to make sure they were all securely buckled, she listened
, while in the cart behind, Phil went noisily through the arsenal they would be taking with them.

‘Right, you’re good to go
,’ she said, gently patting the large stallion’s neck.

‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?’ asked Steve, resting his elbows on the base of the hatch opening, as he leaned in to talk to Phil.

‘Honestly, we’re fine, but thanks,’ Phil replied, nudging Steve out of his way so he could push his large frame through the side hatch. ‘Truth be told, I’d be happier knowing you were here, anyway. If trouble does turns up while we’re gone, you’re by far the best shooter we have, so it would be a waste taking you with us. The guns are just far too noisy to use out there, they’d only attract more of the Dead.’

‘Just feel a bit like a third wh
eel around here sometimes,’ said Steve. ‘I understand the logic behind it, but it makes me feel a bit of a moocher, not pulling my weight by going on trips outside the wall, you know?’

‘Hey, you work in the fields, you do watch duty and you help Bryon in the poly-tunnel
. You’re hardly a moocher. Just because your weapons training makes you our ace in the hole, and we thankfully haven’t had to use you yet, doesn’t mean you’re not doing your bit, okay?’ Phil replied, placing a hand on the young man’s shoulder.

Private Steven Blackmore had been one of the conscripted soldiers who had been forced to work alongside Avery on the island base. Like all the soldiers, Steve had lived each day in fear, scared that someone would eventually come for him in the night
, and he would never be heard of again. It had happened more times than he cared to think about. Those who disobeyed or showed any signs of causing dissent would suddenly disappear. Rumours, whispered in dark corners, suspected that Dr Farrell, the man in charge of finding a cure for the Death-walker plague, used these men and woman as test subjects for his research. Rumours that Avery shamefully confirmed, once he too had decided enough was enough. When Steve had left the island with the rest of his squadron to collect civilians from the mainland, under the guise of rescuing them from a life among the Dead, he had been astounded to find, hidden away in a convent in the Cornish countryside, two unexpected faces from his past. Lars Sorenson, his geography teacher, and Penny, his first unrequited love, had miraculously arrived back in his life, quite out of the blue. They reminded him of a life he thought long gone and had ultimately spurred him into action and revolt.          

‘And you’ve got the key to the gun cupboard on you?’ asked Phil, knowing he could trust the young man but needing to double check, just in case.

Steve pulled aside his collar to loop his finger around the chain that had once held his dog tags.

‘I always have it with me,’ he said, pulling the chain out to show the small key, ‘and Patrick has the other copy.’

‘Good,’ Phil said, smiling with a nod. 

Penny made one last check of Samson. Running her hand along the length of his legs to feel for anything untoward,
and then lifting his hooves one by one, to double check for stones. When she was at last satisfied he would safely be able to take the three passengers to the village, and more importantly, get them back again, she went to stand beside Steve, where she casually slipped her arm around his waist. Even after all this time, Steve still couldn’t help but feel a warm fluttering in his chest whenever Penny touched him. His unrequited love was unrequited no more, and he was simply over the moon about it.

‘We ready?’ Imran asked, walking up to the cart with Liz.

Behind them, Patrick and Avery followed, with Alice pushing a battered looking double buggy holding Charlie and Saleana coming up the rear.

‘Yep,’ said Phil
, ‘all aboard.’

As always, Imran carried his bow and an extra quiver of arrows, as well as the full quiver already on his back. While Liz walking beside him, had her sheathed sword strapped firmly in place over her shoulder blades
, and was just doing up the last of the buckles on her throat protector. Looking like a high collar that came from the shoulders and reaching up to the jaw line, the buckled protector prevented the Dead from snapping at any of the tender neck flesh that could normally be exposed.  As uncomfortable as it was, they would all wear one whenever they went among the Dead. It was better to be uncomfortable for a little while, than dead for a long time.

‘If you see anything you can’t deal with, just come back,’ said Patrick, slightly worried that three of his best fighters were all leaving at the same time
. ‘Don’t take any chances.’

‘Right
,’ said Imran, kneeling down to the buggy to give his daughter a kiss.

Alice stepped forward and pulled Phil into a fierce hug.

‘Try not to do anything stupid,’ she said, stepping back as she released him. ‘Charlie needs his Uncle Phil, okay?’

‘Oh, your mummy’s a worry-wo
rt, Charlie-boy,’ said Phil ignoring her plea, to stoop down to tickle Charlie under the chin. ‘She’ll get worry lines and then how will she get herself a man, eh?’

‘You seemed to manage,’ she replied, crossing her arms
, ‘so there’s hope for us all.’

Phil looked back up at the woman he had grown to love as a sister
, and gave her a friendly wink.

‘I got lucky
,’ he said, smiling as he glanced over at Avery.

‘Yeah, well
, I’m with her,’ Avery said, pulling Phil up to embrace him, ‘don’t do anything stupid.’

‘And put your gloves on
,’ he continued, giving Phil a quick peck on the lips.

‘They’re too small
,’ Phil moaned, pulling the pair of gloves from his jacket pocket.

‘Doctor’s orders
,’ said Alice, ‘gloves!’

‘Oh
, for God’s sake,’ Phil continued, as he forcibly stuffed his large hands into the canvas gardening gloves, ‘it’s not fair you two ganging up on me.’

‘You might as well give up now,’ Liz added, pulling on her gloves ‘
They’ve got you beat.’

‘Humph
,’ Phil grumbled, making a show of holding up his hands, the seams straining to stay together.

‘Love you, you torturer,
’ he continued, turning to give Avery one last kiss before clambering up into the cart.

‘Love you
, too,’ Avery replied, with a smile.

Liz knelt down in front of the buggy and cupped her daughter’s small face in the palm of her hand.

‘Mummy loves you,’ she whispered, ‘and mummy’s coming back.’

Leaning forward
, Liz’s lips gently brushed the top of Saleana’s head.

‘I’ll take good care of her, don’t worry
,’ Alice said, placing a hand on Liz’s shoulder. ‘Just come back safely.’

Liz stood and pulled Alice to her, kissing her cheek.

‘We won’t be long,’ she said, looking down at her daughter again and then back up at Alice. ‘She’ll probably sleep all the time we’re away, anyway.’

‘Famous last words to the babysitter, they are,’ Patrick chuckled, ‘that’s when the kid usually screams its head off the entire night.’

‘Come on, Liz,’ Imran butted in, softly pulling her over to the cart, ‘we’d better be going.’

Liz was just about to step into the cart, when Anne came running out of the convent to skid to a halt next to her.

‘Thought you were going to go without saying goodbye?’ Anne panted, as she threw her arms around her sister’s waist.

‘Love you,’ Liz said, kissing the top of Anne’s curly blond
e hair. ‘Do what Alice tells you, and behave.’

Anne pushed her face away from Liz and looked up at her, her eyes rolling in exasperation.

‘Yes,’ she replied, a little unconvincingly.

Now that all the goodbyes were finally done, Liz joined Imran and Phil in the cart and waited for William to wind the hand crank that would open the Convent’s inner gate.  

With the creaking of hinges, the wide doors slowly opened and after the lightest flick of the reins from Phil, Samson plodded through into the holding area. Once the inner doors had closed behind them, it only took a few minutes for William to crank open the outer gates and they were on their way.

It had been a while since Liz had been out in one of the boxed carts
, and the familiar sense of claustrophobia and its gentle rocking motion was bringing back a flood of memories, not all of them good. But she tried not to focus on those painful scenes that threatened to play across her mind, instead, grabbing hold of the fleeting good times. Holding them tight, she wrapped them about her, allowing herself to drift along with them. It had been the simple times that she had spent with Charlie on their trips that pleased her the most now. It was the small, every day acts of love she had felt from the man that had become a replacement father for first her and her sister, and then in turn, Imran and his brother, those were the memories she welcomed now. The morsels of knowledge he had fed her over the years that at the time, had seemed small and insignificant once put together, had given her the tools to protect herself and those she loved, from not only the Dead, but the living as well. Bit by bit, Charlie had made both her and Imran into the people they were today. The woman she had become, was a sole product of one man’s love for a frightened ten-year-old girl holding her infant sister in her arms that he had, quite by chance, stumbled upon as the world had fallen into ruin.

‘You
okay?’ Imran asked, placing his hand over hers.

‘What
,’ she asked, allowing the memories to fade like smoke on the wind, ‘sorry, yes, I’m fine. I was just thinking about Charlie, that’s all.’

Imran didn’t need to ask whether she meant Charlie the soldier and father
, or Charlie the child he had given Alice. He could tell from the barely hidden pain behind her eyes that it was their surrogate father she was thinking about.

‘I know,’ said Imran, squeezing her hand, ‘I miss him too.’

‘Anyway,’ she said, with a sad smile as she visibly shook the ghosts of her past from her, ‘let’s let some air in here.’

Using one of the
sidewalls to brace herself, Liz reached up to flip open the hatch in the roof. Immediately, the spring morning sunshine broke through the gloom of the shadowy interior, dispelling the last fragments of her mournful memories to the back of her mind. With a sudden jolt, the cart lurched to one side, causing Liz to stumble.

‘Sorry,’ said Phil, glancing back at her, ‘there seems to be more pot hole
s than road left these days. I think we’re going to have to go on the hunt for some sort of gravel at some point. We need to try to fill the worst of them in, at least as far as the gate anyway.’

‘Or source some sort of alternative to wooden cart wheels,’ Liz added, easing herself down onto one of the side benches
. ‘Something with a bit of bounce would certainly take the edge off them.’