DEAD Snapshot Box Set, Vol. 1 [#1-#4]

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DEAD Snapshot Box Set, Vol. 1 [#1-#4] Page 84

by Brown, TW


  Seeing what she did had already given her ideas for when she and Caron returned to the house. That horse field would be perfect for a nice farming allotment. Admittedly she knew very little about growing fruits and vegetables, but it couldn’t be that difficult. Could it?

  “What the hell was that all about?” Caron whispered as she crept over to Shadiyah.

  “Not sure, but did you see the soldiers?”

  “No, my face was too busy trying to make like an ostrich and bury itself in the ground. Sort of that whole ‘if I can’t see you, then hopefully you can’t see me’ idea.”

  “I saw Simon.”

  That single sentence almost seemed to have a physical presence. Shadiyah could see Caron’s face swirling with emotions. The most prominent one was hope. After all, if she was correct and the man had been bitten by his sister all those days ago and still hadn’t turned, then it certainly gave Caron reason for optimism.

  “Why are we waiting?” Caron asked after she had taken a few steps towards the direction that the crowd had vanished.

  Shadiyah opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Here she was, right where she had set out to be. Yet, there was something inside her that feared actually coming face-to-face with Simon. Could she come this far and simply turn around and leave without telling him?

  “You’re right,” Shadiyah finally said with a nod.

  The two women still moved with a great deal of caution as they navigated the narrow roads. They could hear the sounds of people up ahead, the sounds were similar to what you heard at a rugby match, and there was an audible violence to them that drifted on the air and contributed to the sense of disquiet; at least for Shadiyah.

  When they reached the road that the sign announced as Churchville Terrace, they actually had to pause and orient on the sound of the mob because of the way it bounced around in an otherwise silent and empty little village.

  Twice there was an uproar that seemed more bloodthirsty than it did civilized. Each time, the pair would halt. Once, Shadiyah was almost certain that she heard a scream of pain…or maybe anger? She could not be sure because of the roar of at least a couple hundred voices rising in unison in waves that would reach a crescendo and then crash like the rough surf during a storm, only to rise again.

  At last, Caron reached over and grabbed Shadiyah by the arm. “Are you sure we should do this? I don’t like what I’m hearing. They sound bloodthirsty…almost crazed.”

  “We will be fine.”

  She wasn’t entirely convinced of her own words, but Shadiyah was intent on seeing this through now. For some reason, she truly believed that doing this would whisk away whatever cloud it was that seemed to be hanging over her heart and clouding her mind.

  When they rounded the corner onto what was Churchville, they stopped in their tracks. Up ahead on the left was a turn-in just beyond a little hitch in the road. That was where the crowd had gathered. They looked to be packed into some sort of large open area. They were all facing in at something and people were shaking their fists, screaming, and pointing at whatever was going on just out of eyesight.

  As they moved closer, some of the shouts were becoming discernable in the slurry of voices. None of what was heard sounded right coming out of the mouths of the everyday men and women gathered.

  “Kill ‘em!”

  “Feed them to the undead!”

  “Shoot them in the face!”

  Caron glanced at Shadiyah. Her apprehension was growing with every single step. It was becoming increasingly clear that the woman did not want to be here. For all her talk about wanting to meet up and join in with other people, Caron was now suddenly having a change of heart. Then, a familiar voice from behind stopped Shadiyah in her tracks. Her hand immediately went to the scimitar at her side before she even turned.

  “Shadiyah? Is that you?”

  13

  Point of No Return

  The three men knelt in front of Simon. The steady drizzle gave everything a darker tone, and he found himself thinking that they were probably quite miserable kneeling in the wet grass. He shook that superfluous thought away and made himself concentrate on the situation at hand.

  He let his eyes drift across the citizens of Micklefield that had gathered in this open area bordered on each side by simple townhouses; and behind him, in an ironic coincidence, the village’s graveyard. Mrs. Raye was on one side and Geoff the other. Beside each of the soldiers stood Dawn, Melena, and Nelson with a weapon in hand that sort of drifted about the heads of their charges.

  The crowd looked like it might very well be every single member of the town. They were young, old…men and women. The one thing that Simon thought to be a bit morbid was the fact that there were a handful of children hoisted up onto the shoulders of adults that he had to presume to be their parents. Even more surreal, many of them were joining in with the yelling and hollering that demanded these three people be made to pay for their crimes.

  Simon let the crowd go for a while. Deep down, he had hoped they might eventually lose their steam; but, if anything, they were becoming more surly and unruly by the minute. Eventually, he raised his hands in the air to try and get the noise to simmer down. If for no other reason, they would very likely be drawing in some of the surrounding undead.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please, we want to deal with this quickly but with at least some sense of decorum.” Simon was relieved that those words seemed to actually be enough to settle people down. He ignored Nelson as the man shot him a funny look and dramatically mouthed the word “decorum” with an eye roll for good measure.

  “Just promise me one thing,” the sergeant called over his shoulder, obviously waiting for enough silence from the crowd so that he would be heard by those gathered around, “be sure you have the guts to carry out whatever sentence you decree. Don’t pawn it off on one of your lackeys here.”

  The crowd started up again, but Simon quelled it in a hurry as he resumed speaking, starting loud, but gradually pulling it in so that people had to strain to hear. That would usually prompt people to be quiet. That was actually a trick he had learned from his mother who had been a school teacher.

  “These men are to be charged with abusing their station, murdering innocent citizens of the Crown, and bringing shame to Her Majesty’s Armed Forces with their conduct.” Simon let that statement hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “They were caught in the very act of trying to continue in their wretched ways on our own streets just a few short minutes ago. Will anybody step forward and act as their defense?”

  The crowd fell silent. Bewildered faces looked from one to another in apparent confusion.

  “I do not wish to condemn these men simply out of hand,” Simon clarified. “Just because they have exhibited abhorrent behavior does not mean that we must sink to their levels. I would prefer that each of us be able to face ourselves in the mirror when this is over and feel that we acted in a just and fair manner.”

  “You’ve been watching too bloody much American television!” a voice jeered. “Let’s just be done with them.”

  This received a rousing cheer and even some laughter from the people gathered around. Once more, Simon found himself remembering that scene up on the train tracks. He remembered the blood seeping out and spreading through the gravel in an oil slick-type of stain. He could still clearly see the eyes of that man staring skyward.

  The details seemed to become more exaggerated each time he allowed his mind to recall it. He had no idea if perhaps his mind was now creating details that had not existed, or if perhaps it was finally being allowed to paint in the things he had not been able to process. For instance, the pupil of the man’s left eye was dilated to the point of almost eliminating the iris, and the blood vessels had broken, turning almost the entire white of that eye an ugly red. He shook that image away and pressed his lips tight as he regarded this crowd.

  As much as the idea sickened him, he thought that he might have the cure for the bloodlust that was rising i
n the people of Micklefield. Stepping up to Melena, he tapped her shoulder and nodded to the black handle that jutted up from a sheath at her hip. She drew the short field machete and handed it to him with a curious expression.

  Walking over to the sergeant, Simon locked eyes with Nelson. “Step back.”

  The man did so, but there was a slight hesitancy to his actions that caused Simon to step up and actually nudge the man out of the way. He now stood directly behind the sergeant, looking out at the crowd gathered around. He fought the trembling in his hands and gripped the handle of the weapon tight.

  “If this is what you want, then so be it.”

  The sergeant was just starting to turn his head in Simon’s direction when Simon swung the machete with all he had. Even with him putting everything behind the swing, the weapon still came to a sudden and violent halt when it slammed into the vertebrae in the man’s neck.

  An arc of blood sprayed from the nasty cut, and when the blade was jerked free, it only got worse. The red spray splashed several of the people gathered in the front of the mob. Meanwhile, the sergeant fell to the ground and began to kick and twitch violently. While certainly not his intention, this display actually had exactly the sort of effect he’d hoped for as people gasped, screamed, and in a few cases, fainted.

  He attempted to finish the job and end the man’s suffering. Stepping down on the struggling sergeant’s chest, Simon raised his arm to swing again and made the mistake of looking into the man’s eyes.

  He had no idea what sort of man this sergeant had been before everything went crazy, but now, the man was in pain and very, very afraid. It was clear in the eyes as well as the way the man was obviously trying to beg or plead. Fortunately for Simon, those words were reduced to nothing more than unintelligible gurgles as the blood gushed from between the man’s lips. Once more, Simon swung down as hard as he could. He really only wanted to put this entire ordeal to an end, but fate was cruel and the stroke came down, glancing off the side of the man’s head just above the left eye. It did take away all the flesh down to the skull, but then the blade bit into the shoulder at the base of the sergeant’s neck on the opposite side where the first deep cut had struck.

  Thankfully, the blood loss had become too much and the man went still. Simon stood up and faced the crowd of Micklefield citizens. The screams for blood had died on their lips as they witnessed the brutal execution. Simon looked over at Dawn and Melena and saw horror on their faces. Nelson was not much better and had taken a few steps back from everything.

  Simon looked down at himself and saw blood dripping from his hands, soaking the front of his clothing. How had this happened? he wondered.

  The two remaining soldiers were the first to break the silence that had befallen the large gathering.

  “Please, I beg you…we was only following orders!” one of the soldiers pleaded.

  “Mercy!” the other cried, his much more simplistic approach actually sounding more poignant.

  Simon returned his attention to the crowd that seemed as if it had backed up as an entity and put more distance between it and the dead body on the ground.

  “Well?” Simon called, making sure to look into as many sets of eyes that would meet his cold stare. “Shall we continue with your desires for blood?”

  “I think you have made your point,” a voice whispered in his ear.

  Simon turned to see that Mrs. Raye had come up without his knowing and taken a place right beside him. She reached over and eased down the hand that still held the machete. The only sound now was the distant moan of a zombie. It was answered by another.

  In singles and small groups, the people of Micklefield began to melt away. Eventually, the only people still standing in this little square were Simon, Mrs. Raye, Melena, Nelson, Dr. Asan, and the two soldiers. Dawn and Kas had vanished at some point and, as usual, Cedric was nowhere to be found.

  “What is to be done with us?” one of the soldiers finally asked.

  “I have no idea,” Simon admitted.

  “I think there is a chance that you could earn trust and be allowed to join the community,” Mrs. Raye spoke up.

  “We’ll do whatever it takes,” both soldiers said more or less in unison.

  “For now, I think we will have you kept under watch until a final decision can be made,” Nelson said, raising a hand to silence Mrs. Raye before she could protest. Her expression made it clear that she was not entirely in agreement with Nelson taking over the scene.

  Simon seriously did not care at that exact moment; all he wanted was to be out of his blood soaked clothing and to wash up. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second to try and get himself together, but he was immediately greeted by his mental replay of how he had killed two living human beings within the past couple of hours.

  “I think we will need to double the patrols the next few days,” Simon sighed. He suddenly felt very tired. If not for the blood, he would just go home and collapse.

  He was about to leave when three people dressed in the typical hunter patrol garb came around the corner at a sprint. When they spied Simon, they actually looked like they somehow managed to increase their pace.

  “What the bloody hell is wrong now?” Simon mumbled.

  ***

  Shadiyah remained rooted to the spot where she stood. She had made this journey thinking about nothing more than telling Simon that his sister had been taken care of properly. After that, she would return to that house—hopefully with Caron joining her—and then she would create someplace safe where she could just live out her life in peace.

  The person standing before her made Shadiyah remember how, not more than a few days ago, her plan had been to scour the countryside and execute every single evil beast that had crawled out from under a rock in this apocalyptic world and preyed on those they saw as weaker.

  She wanted to kill the person standing before her more than anything else in the world at the moment.

  “How did you make it here in one piece?” Cedric asked. As soon as the question came out of his mouth, he began to utter and stammer. “Not to say that you were not able or capable. Certainly you are…you are standing here now…”

  Four other individuals were with Cedric, two of them women. That made no sense to Shadiyah. How could any female feel even the least bit safe with Cedric Black?

  Shadiyah still seemed paralyzed and unable to move or respond. Cedric took a few steps forward, obviously reading her silence as perhaps relief. Could he really think that she would see him as her savior?

  “We had a bit of a problem with some soldiers, but your friend Simon took care of things. You would be proud of him. Perhaps I should get you to him in a hurry.” The man walked up to her, seemingly oblivious to everything that had happened.

  Shadiyah looked at him, her mouth open in amazement. She looked over at the four people who were with him and she remained unable to speak as her brain simply felt like it was overloading. At last, she was able to say one word.

  “Simon.”

  “Yeah, Simon is here. He’s fine. I imagine he will be surprised that you are here. After all, of all the places in the world you could have headed for, what are the odds that you show up in this particular spot?” Cedric turned his head and waved his companions to join him. “Shadiyah here was in Leeds as well. But I don’t recall you, miss.”

  With that, Cedric stepped past Shadiyah and introduced himself to Caron. He also gave the names of his companions, but Shadiyah could not hear any of that as the blood seemed to be rushing in her ears so loud that she was amazed the others could not hear it.

  Slowly, she turned around. Cedric had his back to her completely as he was talking about something to do with soldiers and an attack on the town of Micklefield.

  Standing there, Shadiyah felt her mind spiral into memories that came at her hard and fast. It was so overwhelming that she almost felt as if she were drowning. A small part of her mind screamed for her to fight, and that if she did not, she might be consumed in t
he darkness that even now was filling her lungs and killing the rational and humane Shadiyah Kasim.

  For the briefest of instances, she considered putting up a fight. After all, the world had become a much more terrifying place. Also, was there not some slight possibility that Cedric Black really had nothing to do with the attack on Assi that led to her eventual death?

  “No,” she whispered. The word was almost inaudible, but there was enough behind it for Cedric to turn around.

  “What was that?” he asked.

  Shadiyah and Cedric made eye contact and locked onto each other. There was that split second of realization that was just beginning to materialize in Cedric’s expression when Shadiyah lunged forward with the scimitar that she still had in her hand. Cedric had some sort of spiked club in his hand, but his reaction to deflect the stab came too late.

  The tip of the scimitar plunged into the man’s chest, driving straight through his heart, killing him almost instantly. His mouth opened, but the only sound that came forth was a long exhale as the man’s lungs emptied themselves one final time.

  There were shouts of alarm, and the four people that had been with Cedric all seemed unsure of how to react. Shadiyah turned to them as she yanked her scimitar free and took a step forward. “My sister is dead because of that animal and his little gang of rapists.”

  The reaction she received from the foursome split right down gender lines. The men seemed confused and the women both turned to the dead body on the ground and took a step towards it as if they might be able to glean some kernel of insight if they were only a little bit closer.

  “Shadiyah!” Caron snapped, appearing suddenly in front of her. “What have you done?”

 

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