Plague Of The Revenants (11 page)

Gloria was crying most of the way home and appeared to be having some sort of panic attack. Stan just stared ahead, licking his cracked lips. I imagined they must both have been traumatised by their narrow escape from the depot.
They regarded the revenants fearfully as we passed by in the truck and I could tell they did not have a great deal of experience in hand to hand combat with the creatures. Most likely they had looted in anticipation of the outbreak before it had actually hit the town and thereafter hid out from the worst of it and kept their heads down. It was a smart move but not especially useful to us right now.
“We forgot our bags!” Exclaimed Gloria suddenly.
“Don’t worry,” I said, trying to sound soothing. “We’ve got everything you need right back at the church.” I turned to Stan. “How long have you been there?” I asked him.
“A month,” replied Stan. “Or thereabouts, I can’t remember. We busted this supermarket just before the infection got out of control and came straight to the depot. Gloria’s dad used to own it.”
“Have there always been three of you?”
“Yeah,” said Stan. “Gloria and me used to go out.”
“When did they stop?”
“About a week ago.”
I threw back my head and laughed out loud. “Sounds like you’ve been through quite a time of it,” I said. “I’m not surprised tensions ran high cooped up as you were in such a narrow space with all that’s going on outside. Well I’m no relationship counsellor but I hope you’ll be able to work on things when you’ve got a little bit more space back at our base.”
“Is there much to do?” Asked Stan.
“Plenty,” I replied. “The whole reason we found you is because we were out looking for fence posts to help build our defences. We’ve got big plans, you see guys, and we’re more than happy to have you lend a hand. Still, get your heads together first,” I told them generously. “Everybody needs a little time.”
Reverend Thorpe came out to meet us as usual and his eyes lit up with wonder at the sight of the three trucks and their full loads. “Anybody hurt?” he asked anxiously.
“No and we’re three more up,” I said cheerfully, nodding towards the additional survivors. Those who could emerged from the church and soon we were all engaged in unloading the posts and placing them in neat piles by the side of the church.

The others were delighted to see Dev, Stan and Gloria, especially the older ones. Here was progress at last, they thought, a real
sign that things were growing and the group was developing. The others tried to make conversation with the three newcomers but only Dev really responded. I could see that he was apart from the other two, must have felt like a bit of a third wheel in their relationship and he alone seemed glad to be here. Stan and Gloria stuck together and spoke to one another in whispers, withdrew to the side of the church and remained aloof from the general conversation.

Now we were back we had the chance to count and examine the fences. Frey immediately announced them to be of excellent quality. “Well treated too so they should last a good few years,” he said. “We’ll have to replace them eventually, you always do with wood but hey, who knows
what’s another few years down the line? By that time we may have put up a stone wall.”
I spent some time with Frey walking from the church to the farmhouse, planning out where we might put the posts and how much filler timber we might need before we were called in for supper. I made a mental note that now there were three more of us we would need to go out raiding again that little bit sooner now that we had three more. Still, for that night we ate well once more and afterwards I retired to the clock room, as was my custom. Reverend Thorpe came to join me shortly afterwards, as I knew he would.
“You’ve not been here a week and you’re already the most important member of our team,” said Thorpe.
“The team is important,” I said firmly. “Not me. If I died tomorrow you’d still remember what I taught you. Whatever you do don’t come to rely on me.”
There’s more than enough fence posts to finish the job,” said Thorpe. “I’ve seen the plans. Space the posts out at an even distance then fill them in with wood and secure it. We’ll have a secure tunnel running from here to the cottage in no time.”
“There’s work to be done in the meantime and that work will benefit us all,” I said. “Those three newcomers? They’ve all of them gone a little stir crazy, I’ve seen it before. At least a project will serve to give us a bit of healthy exercise and hopefully take our minds off the wider problem.”
After Thorpe left I started to loll off to sleep but was awakened a few hours later to the sound of a commotion coming from the main body of the church. I leapt up, seized the hammer and charged down the steps, convinced we had been invaded. The others were on their feet, many had retreated into the corner. Stan and Gloria stood in the middle of the room. At first I thought the two of them had turned. They were swaying obscenely in the aisle with rich yellow vomit stuck to their fronts. I raised my hammer uncertainly then noticed how Kit stood back with her arms folded, a humourless smile on her lips. “Drunk,” she muttered contemptuously.

Reverend Thorpe forced some water down their throats and settled them as best they could
.
“Where did they get the booze from?” Demanded Hammond.
“Stole it,” I muttered. “Stole it from us, that is. I recognise that as one of the bottles we unpacked from the bags when we raided those cars the other day.”
“I suppose they must have been through a terrible trauma,” said Thorpe sympathetically.
“Nonsense,” I spat. “They’re in the same boat as the rest of us. We’ve all been through an ordeal.”
“Let it go,” pleaded Thorpe. “At least for now. They just need a little time.”
“Time is one thing we don’t have,” I said darkly. “If we’re all going to live together we all need to stick by the rules. That was strong alcohol not for drinking. We could have used that as anaesthetic or to clean wounds.”
“I don’t think I can cope with much more of this,” muttered Jeanette Frey. “I’m still getting over the revenant scare of the other night. And besides, how do we know she isn’t bitten? Did anybody check?”
“She wasn’t bitten,” I replied confidently for everybody to hear. “That place was done up tighter than a drum and there wasn’t a revenant within the perimeter until we got there.”
“I suppose we can’t choose who we save,” said Hammond eventually. “Had the two of them not made it to safety in the wood depot I doubt they’d have made it that far. Still, I suppose if they have been sheltered from it all it must be a hell of a shock for them.”
“Maybe we’ll let it go tonight,” I acknowledged. “Although I’m still going to give them one hell of a rollicking in the morning. We need good, strong workers no lazy no good sponging drunks.”
The next two weeks were taken up with the building of the passageway. We drove around the farms in the area removing wood from the outbuildings and loading it into our trucks. We found spades and went out and filled in the ditches leading to the farmhouse, levelling the ground. We found stone and grit and laid it over the boggy ground. We put in place a new system of rarely going into buildings. Instead we kept to areas with a clear line of vision and when we worked we worked in teams of at least three with one person keeping a lookout. The revenants came by, of course they did, but for most it was just a question of getting out of the way. Only a few of us went out and put them down and I was gratified to see Kit and Paul getting less reticent about finishing them off.

Endless debate raged as to how best to harvest our own food. I knew we would have to wait a while before we could start to plant crops in the field but in the meantime there was the question of whether or not we could plough a space somewhere and we were always hopeful of finding seeds in the multitude of barns we raided.

Most of the foraging work was now done by myself, Kit, Paul and Dev. Every time we went past a farmhouse to gather wood we would loot it as well, only this time we employed a sounder method in that we would be sure to pave our way first. Any time we sensed a revenant in the building we would retreat and summon backup. Throughout the course of our raids we found three more guns and also several medium sized canisters. One day myself and Dev took these canisters to the village petrol station and filled them up so we might have access to a constant source of fuel.

In general
Dev came with us on our missions keenly but Stan and Gloria had to be coerced. The more I found out about their backgrounds the less I liked about them. I got the impression Stan had been something of a petty crook before the outbreak, a low level graffiti artist, drug dealer and all round troublemaker. I knew I was hardly one to preach but at least I had never been happy with being small time. They never really talked about themselves and clammed up when I tried to engage them. Still, I couldn’t quite blame them for it. I was running from my past as well. From time to time I forced Stan to come out with me but the boy was lazy and listless and rarely any help. He tended to turn tail at the first sign of trouble and could often be found slacking off.
The downstairs windows of the farmhouse were boarded up aside from a narrow slit at the top in order to let in at least a little natural light. We even found some paint which we used to cover over the blood left over by the revenants in the farmhouse. Such was the size of the farmhouse we could afford to have everyone sleeping on the upper floors where there was no need to conceal the windows. Frey remained on site all the time, supervising at least one other in the work. The passageway was turning out even better than I expected, with sloped sides leading up to a flat roof around a metre wide and about two metres tall. The passageway was solid and reinforced and I imagined it would not be so easily breached. The building of the passageway gave us hope. It was more than just a structure, rather it was a sign that we were progressing and advancing in the face of all the odds. People began to suggest more plans. They talked about building houses and constructing a great wall around the entire village. I doubted whether any of these plans would come to anything but the point was they gave us all hope. We took care to boost morale. Sometimes we would take out some of the older people in the trucks, or even the children, just so they could have a ride out. Of course if we did this we were careful not to take them anywhere dangerous or go into any buildings. Even though we were in a state of permanent crisis I cannot recall ever having experienced a feeling of such hope. Indeed the longer we went without losing anybody the more hope we had. I realised I always wanted to lead, always saw myself as a leader. People looked to me for guidance, still believed I was formerly in the army. I was pleased that this lie could go on indefinitely and they would never find the truth.
It was just as well things were moving on as regards our move to the farmhouse, because the temperature dropped dramatically over the next few weeks. More blankets were brought in to make the older survivors comfortable but I resisted repeated requests that we move into the farmhouse early, for the place was still far from secure. Tom Hammond continued to watch the revenants from the roof of the church. Once a swarm came to within two miles of us and we all held our breath for a few days before it eventually moved on to pastures new. The relationship between myself and Kit remained frosty but we worked together well enough.
We found them hiding in a hay loft on a farm three miles out from the church. Myself, Paul and Kit discovered them whilst out scavenging which was just as well because there were several revenants prowling around the vicinity which we were required to finish off. The barn was dirty and ramshackle. I wouldn’t have picked it out amongst the many outbuildings we had raided over those past few weeks. The family were hungry and desperate but they had survived in one piece, which was surprising in these times. They were called the Marstons and there were four of them: husband, wife, boy and girl. In other words the perfect family unit. They were cold, hungry and frightened and David Marston, the father, had an infected wound on his arm from where he had ripped it on a piece of barbed wire whilst fleeing a revenant onslaught but they were in better shape than Stan, Dev and Gloria had been when we found them in the depot, at least psychologically. David and Christina were both in their mid-thirties. The children, Charlie and Esme, were eleven and eight years old respectively. We took them back to the church and gave them food. Christina Marston, the mother, was the most talkative of the group.
“We looted that farmhouse over a month ago,” said Kit. “And I peered into that barn myself. You weren’t there then. Have you come far?”
“I don’t know,” replied Christina, and her voice sounded faraway and somehow frightened. “It sort of shows our desperation that we decided to come with you so easily. We’ve not had a good experience with other survivors.”
“What do you mean?” I said sharply, my interest piqued.
“Originally there were twenty of us,” said David Marston. “We’d all broken out from the city, took to our bikes when things started to get really bad whereas most people took the roads.”
“Smart move,” I mused appreciatively.
“We were like you guys I supposed,” continued David. “Trying to find a spot as isolated as possible. Eventually we found this derelict cottage on some heathland near the coast. It seemed perfect. We had shotguns and some of our party knew how to use them. We went out into the nearby woods and shot game, laid traps then cooked it in the fire that night. We were doing well.”
“So what went wrong?” Asked Kit.
“We went hunting,” said Christina. “All four of us, I mean. David thought it would be a good idea for the kids to learn their way around the forest, learn to take care of themselves just in case something happened to us. When we got back everyone else was gone, just vanished into thin air.”
“Revenants?” Suggested Reverend Thorpe.
“That’s what we thought at first but there was no sign of a struggle and no blood anywhere like you would expect,” said Christina. “What was more all of our provisions had been taken, including the bedding.”
“And you never found your friends?” I asked. “Either dead or as revenants?”
“Never,” said David.
“Might they have left without you?” I pressed. Did you have a falling out or something like that?”
“No,” said David. “We all got along swimmingly, or so I thought. And besides, if they didn’t want us anymore why not make us leave? Why depart from safety just for our sakes. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“So what did you do afterwards?” Asked Reverend Thorpe.
“We had no food or provisions,” replied David. “We had to move on. We wandered for a couple of days, sleeping up trees when necessary and living off blackberries from the hedges until we came to the barn. Inside we found this recently dead sheep which we cooked up and were living off it when you arrived.”
“How long ago was that?” I asked.
“Three days,” said Christina.
“And this camp of yours, how far away was that?”
“Hard to tell,” she replied with a shrug. “I’d say we’re a few miles from the coast so however far that is.”
“Twenty miles,” put in Reverend Thorpe.
“Not much when you’ve got access to a vehicle,” I said with some concern.