Killing the Dead Season 3 Box Set | Books 13-18

by Murray, Richard

  “That’s a lot of zombies, Clever Bastard. Gonna be a tough job getting through them unseen.”

  That was true enough, though it could be done. We could follow the coast all the way to the docks since that would have the least zombies, but any reasonably intelligent person would post lookouts to watch that route.

  Similarly, they would be watching the mouth of the river, so any boat approaching would be met with a well-prepared defence. Moving through the housing developments that formed the suburbs, into the city proper, would result in attracting the attention of the zombies which would alert the mercenaries.

  “Ah, fuck!” Isaac muttered as the drone reached the edge of the dockyards.

  I stared at the screen, wondering what had caused the exclamation, determined to find it myself before asking him.

  “What is it?” Gregg asked, apparently not having the same reluctance that I had.

  “Ah,” I said as I finally saw it. “The ship.”

  “Aye, Clever Bastard. The fucking ship.”

  “What ship?” Gregg asked, giving the two of us a confused look.

  I tapped on the screen with one finger and he squinted down at it with his one good eye. It was distant, at the maximum zoom on the little drone’s camera, but just visible. A man walking slowly along the length of a tanker that was anchored out in the centre of the river.

  “That’s a zombie.”

  “Not unless zombies have started smoking,” Isaac muttered.

  The battery icon began to flash on the screen, and I kept the drone’s camera focused on the ship for as long as I could before the screen went dark and the drone fell from the sky.

  Approx. two hundred and fifty metres in length and forty wide, it sat in the centre of the river with an easy two hundred metres or more of open water at either side. A couple of smaller boats had been tied up alongside it and I guessed that they had been taken from the docks and were being refuelled and readied for taking more people to my island.

  It wasn’t a bad idea. They had a base that was mobile if needed and with smaller craft, they could make trips out to gather the other small boats that were tied up along the length of the docks. There would be no zombies attacking them and they could see anyone approaching.

  There was even a helicopter pad, complete with helicopter, which I guessed was how they had made their way through the city. They simply flew over it and landed on a ship that was already there. All they would have had to do was move it out into the centre of the river for security.

  “Smart move,” Isaac conceded as he settled back against the stone wall we were using as cover.

  “Now what do we do?” Gregg asked. “Even if we could get through the city, find a small boat and row out to it unnoticed, what? We sit there and hope they throw us a ladder down? That thing must be a good thirty metres above the waterline.”

  “Then,” he continued. “If we manage to get to the deck, there’s almost a clear view for anyone in the control tower to pick us off.”

  “There’s another option,” I said quietly.

  “What’s that?”

  “We sink it.”

  The two men exchanged looks and then turned to stare at me at the same time. I grinned at their stunned expressions.

  “How exactly do you plan to do that, then? Not like we have a load of explosives with us.”

  “We don’t need any. That boats an explosive device all on its own. Hit it hard enough and you could punch a hole in the hull.”

  “You won’t get near it with a boat, Clever Bastard. They’ll be prepared for that.”

  “Aye, no doubt. Unless it’s one of their own approaching.”

  Isaac scratched at the thick stubble on his chin as he pondered that. It made sense to me, of course. They had some boats tied up alongside the tanker so it was clear that they were going out and gathering them ready to send to the island.

  All we needed to do was wait for them to send one out and intercept it at the docks. We could then travel back on the boat, all the way to the tanker. We didn’t even need to ram it, just rig an explosion on a boat right next to it and we could do some damage.

  “Might work. Risky as hell and too much luck needed, but it might work.”

  “We still need to get through the city,” Gregg pointed out. “Then there’s a long arse stretch of dockyards to fight our way through.”

  “Nothing else to do,” I said with a grin.

  And that was pretty much that. As rough a plan as we were going to get, but a plan none the less. I cast an eye over my waiting minions and smiled slyly. I had plenty of cannon fodder should the need arise.

  The sky was grey but there was no snow falling, a small blessing as the chill wind was enough to deal with. Each of us carried a pack with food for a week, and water for a couple of days at least.

  Not ideal, but there were limits to how much water we could effectively carry with us. We did have the requirements to build a fire and purify some boiled snow, which would help. Food was harder to come by.

  I climbed over the wall and led the way through the garden and down the driveway to the gate at the far end. Once there, I paused for a moment to check the way was clear and then headed out onto the silent street.

  There was no chatter from my minions and both Isaac and Gregg were experienced enough to keep silent while surrounded by enemies. I kept a careful watch on the houses as we passed them by, alert for danger.

  It was a somewhat surreal feeling. The last time I had been in a city was Glasgow. That had been a constant battle to survive and the streets had teemed with the undead. In Liverpool though, or at least on the outskirts, that was not the case.

  I had no doubt that beneath the thick blanket of snow would be bodies and that was something to be watchful for. Every step had to be placed carefully to ensure I didn’t trip over some rotting corpse of a zombie.

  After ten minutes, Isaac tapped me on the shoulder and gestured with one hand. My eyes narrowed, but I nodded and stepped aside, allowing him to take the lead. He ploughed through the snow leaving a wide wake and I dropped to the rear.

  I could admit that it was a much easier experience, travelling at the back. Whoever led had to plough a furrow through the snow, while the next one in line would only need to widen the trail the lead had left. It was a tiring role to play and after another ten minutes, it was Isaacs turn to drop back, taking up position at the rear while Gregg took point.

  And so it went, each of us taking it in turns to lead the others, ensuring that we all conserved as much energy as we could.

  Half an hour after we had entered the boundary of the city, we came upon our first zombie. It slumped against a garden wall, snow covering much of its body. For a moment I thought it dead, but it lifted its head, as though sniffing at the air.

  Isaacs thrown knife caught it in the side of its skull before it could utter a moan that would summon more of its kind. Gregg clapped him quietly on the back and on we went.

  The buildings that lined the road were red brick with slate rooves and large gardens. They were each several storeys high and had most likely cost a pretty penny at one time. Then, though, with the gardens grown wild and the paint peeling from the doors, it seemed that nature would soon win out and they would begin to crumble.

  By the time there were enough people left to reclaim the cities, there would be no point. The buildings would be ruins, with weeds and bushes growing everywhere. We had already seen it over the summer, the tarmac of the roads cracking, with plants growing there.

  Cars that had been used in the exodus as people fled the city had been abandoned on the roads, snow covering them. I wiped the snow from one side window as we passed and peered inside, only to jerk back as a corpse turned its head towards me when I bumped the window.

  “A world that belongs to the dead,” Isaac intoned quietly. “This is no longer our place, just a monument to a world that no longer exists.”

  I shrugged at that, having no other response to offer. I care
d little, truth be told. I walked on without another word, following the back of the person in front of me until we stopped, and word was passed back.

  “What is it?” I asked impatiently as the minion before me turned back.

  “A group of zombies, My Lord Death.”

  “How many?”

  “Enough to fill the next street.”

  By my best estimation, we were still a good couple of miles from the start of the docks and the sky had already begun to darken as evening approached. It would take us the better part of another day to reach the docks at the rate we were going.

  If we had to find alternate ways around each and every pack of undead that we met, we would be out of food before we even got there. I almost growled in frustration.

  At some point, we had moved from those large, detached houses of earlier, and were surrounded by semi-detached houses and rows of terraces with little way through. If they continued to be the same further into the city, and I had no reason to suspect they wouldn’t, we would find ourselves boxed in with no way to go.

  That was unacceptable.

  “Your orders, My Lord Death?”

  We could be cautious or we could be fast, not both at the same time. I had not the patience to wait, so I flashed my minion a grin.

  “We go through.”

  Chapter 19

  I spun, blade slicing through rotting flesh like a hot knife through butter. There were no screams of pain, no attempt to avoid it, just a seemingly endless wave of undead, eager to die upon my blade.

  My left blade slammed through the thin bone at the temple of a half-rotted zombie, while my right swung up beneath the chin of another. The flesh burst apart like over-ripe fruit as my knife-blade broke through the soft palate and into the brain beyond.

  There was no time to spare them a glance as they fell. I was on to the next, and the next, knives moving without pause and every strike placed without wasted movement. Even so, my chest heaved, and my breath came in gasps as I dealt death to the walking corpses.

  All around me, my minions fought in silence, their arms rising and falling as they cut methodically through the zombies. There was a competent skill in their efforts, but they didn’t come close to my own artistry.

  If I were a painter, their bodies were my canvas, their fouled, black, blood, my paint. My knives were the brushes and they spread that blackened fluid across the snow-covered street. I was in my element and I knew it.

  Gregg moved carefully, his own knife striking true as his long practice with fighting the undead kept him alive and free of panic. Isaac, meanwhile, was like a man possessed. He seemed determined to match my own number of kills, though where mine were neat, methodical and sublime, his were coarse and messy.

  He used his thick mallet with ruthless efficiency, making up for lack of skill with strength and stamina. He refused to back down, refused to stop fighting while any zombie remained. I could almost admire that about him.

  Their stench hung heavy in the air and their flesh fell away at the slightest touch, but even so, through sheer numbers alone they were a danger. A minion went down, withered fingers clawing at his clothes.

  He moaned as the first teeth pierced his skin and yet he still continued to fight, still tried to do the duty he had sworn to do. Another minion paused long enough in the fight to end his pain and stop him from rising again, and then she moved on, killing another zombie.

  Then, I struck down a zombie that reared up before me and found myself without another to kill. I looked around, head turning this way and that as I sought another enemy to sink my blade into. But it was to little avail as we had killed them all.

  Gregg wiped sweat from his face and even the indomitable Isaac’s shoulders sagged as he lowered his gore covered mallet and looked around.

  “Everyone okay?” he called, quietly.

  “One lost,” a minion replied as he cleaned his weapon.

  “No time to dawdle,” I snapped. “Keep moving.”

  The source of my irritation was clear to me and I tilted my head to, first, one side and then another, as I attempted to ease the tension in my neck and shoulders. It had been a less than satisfying encounter and while I had killed many zombies, they were the slow and stupid variety.

  No challenge and therefore, no thrill.

  My only consolation was that they hadn’t raised too much ruckus which meant our real enemy was likely still unaware of our presence. I would get to kill them, lots of them, and that might just satisfy the darkness I carried.

  We left the bodies where they lay. No doubt the snow would soon be falling once more and they would be covered over until the spring brought enough warmth to melt it. Which was likely when the rats and other vermin would feast.

  When we turned the corner, we were faced with another, smaller, group of zombies. They had clearly heard the altercation as they were headed straight towards us. They died quickly, bodies falling to the snow as my minions killed quietly and efficiently.

  At the end of that road, there was a roundabout. Small, but open with four roads connecting to it and a large block of flats overlooking it. The houses we had been surrounded by, gave way to a car dealership, a bar and grill, as well as the usual chemist, post office and corner shops.

  With just a glance from me, my minions split up into smaller groups, hugging the sides of the road and moving cautiously. Being so exposed on a wide, open, road that lead straight into the heart of the city, had my neck hairs standing on end.

  Then we were past them with no incident, moving off into a side street that ran alongside a football club. The terraces stood empty, the snow-covered field untouched for some time. I paid it no mind and continued on.

  Further along, we came upon a twin set of railway tracks. Trees and bushes provided a screen of sorts for the homes that had been built alongside the track and they were down a low embankment. I glanced at my friend who shrugged in response.

  “Seems as good a route as any, mate.”

  Isaac grunted and scrambled down the embankment. He stood at the bottom peering first one way and then the other. Finally, satisfied, he waved for the rest of us to join him and with a simple gesture, my minions headed down.

  The going was easier and there was less chance of meeting any zombies, but before long the tracks began to curve to the east, away from the docks. I tried to picture the rough map of the city that the drone had shown me as I had flown it overhead earlier and began to frown.

  We passed one bridge and then another, both built of old brick and rising high above the tracks. Houses filled the area to either side of the tracks and I realised it was time to head back up, into the city.

  Another command and we began to climb the embankment, moving slowly in the snow but eventually we were all up, crouching in the bushes as one of the minions scouted ahead.

  A signal was given and I rose up, joints aching from the cold, and pushed through the bushes. Gregg’s hand on my arm gave me pause and I looked back into his concerned face.

  “We need to rest, mate.”

  I looked around at my minions, but their faces were covered in their black hoods. Their posture, however, spoke of exhaustion and so I nodded.

  “Find us somewhere suitable.”

  It didn’t take long, a large house with a handful of zombies lingering on the street in front of it. I didn’t bother joining in the fight, letting my minions kill them because I simply couldn’t be bothered. It was a chore, nothing else.

  When the last zombie fell, we headed up the short path to the house and tried the door. It opened straight away, and I led the way inside, pulling a torch from my pocket and shining the beam before me.

  Black mould covered the walls and ceiling of the hallway and just a quick glance through the first doorway I came to was enough to show it wasn’t suitable. Water had seeped in through a cracked window and mould covered everything.

  We filed back out and moved on to the next house. It too was unfit for habitation and it was with a growing
irritation that I realised that it would be the norm. It had been two years since people had lived in the houses and it was showing.

  With no one to maintain them, they were already beginning to crumble. It would make things all the harder for any survivors left after the zombies had died off.

  The next building along was a police station. Small, merely a local station for the bobbies on the beat to begin and end their patrols. A place they could take their breaks, catch up on paperwork and do all the other myriad community policing things that they used to do.

  Unlike the houses, the doors were firmly locked, and it required more than a little of Isaac’s strength and a fair bit of effort to get inside. But, once in, it was dusty but dry and there was ample space for us to settle in.

  If it had been a real police station we would have needed better tools than we had. Being a local place though, it had been staffed most hours and only had the basic locks on the front door.

  “Bloody cold,” Gregg muttered as he settled into a nearby corner, shivering.

  He wasn’t wrong and if not for the very real risk of alerting any nearby enemies, I would have been of half a mind to start a fire. As it was, the best we could do was huddle together to share body warmth as we wrapped our sleeping blankets around ourselves.

  There was little to say, and no one really had the energy to bother anyway. Even the relentlessly chatty Gregg was quiet. Which made it all the more alarming when a knock sounded on the door.

  I was on my feet in an instant, knives in hand and I reached the door before any of the others. I grasped the handle firmly in one hand and swung it open, stepping to one side to avoid any potential attack.

  When none came, I hesitated and then risked a look outside.

  A figure stood there, snow settled on her slim form. Black lines covered her pallid, corpse grey skin, but eyes that shone with intelligence looked up at me as a smile twisted her lips.

  “Hello,” Briony said, calmly, confidently. “We need to talk.”